Of Knives and Glamour
by TheColorsInShadow
Summary: Fran works in a dingy club as a waiter. The Varia is a renowned group of models, and Bel's heart has just be betrayed by the one person he thought was his friend. Could Fran be the replacement they've all been looking for? BelFran, XS, hints of BelMammon, other pairings. AU
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

**Hey everyone! I'm baaaaaack~**

**Just some notes before we start:**

**Il Bosque Oscura is the name of the club (it means 'The Dark Forest')**

**The Varia is a group of models; as are the Vongola, and pretty much every group in the anime. :D I've never read a modeling fanfic for the Varia (probably with good reason .') so I decided to make one myself. **

**This IS rated mature for a reason; for language and hopefully some smexyness between the characters (I'm not gonna chicken out this time, promise ^_^')**

**And lastly, I don't own KHR. The characters belong to Akira Amano, but the story line IS mine. **

**Hope you like it! Enjoy~**

9:30 pm

The bedroom was dark, the lights off, drapes closed. There was hardly a sound to be heard, other than the soft, regular breathing of someone asleep. A silvery crown hung from the bedpost, shimmering dully due to lack of light. The bed itself was lavish, with dark draperies hanging from the top, hiding its occupant behind waves of crimson.

Murmurs from the other side of side of the door caused the covers to stir, and the top of a blonde head peeked out from under them.

"Bel….going out…asleep…..wake him?"

_Go away…stupid peasants, go away…_

"VRAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIT!"

The silence was shattered, and the blonde cursed, pulling the covers back over his head as his door burst open and the lights were slammed on. Loud footsteps sounded, coming closer to his bed at an alarming rate. The blonde had only seconds to tighten his grip on the covers before they were torn from his grasp, causing him to growl in annoyance. He sat up instantly, grabbing the crown from the bedpost and settling it lopsidedly on his head on one swift motion. He glared darkly through his bangs at the man in front of him, and although the silver haired man couldn't see the other's eyes, the piercing feel of the gaze made him take a few steps back.

This was why disturbing Bel was a bad idea.

The silver haired man recovered quickly, though, launching almost immediately into a barrage of noise. "VRAIT! Get up Bel, we're going clubbing!" The blonde hissed beneath his breath and proceeded to flop himself back down on the bed defiantly.

"Not going."

"VRAAAAIT! TRASH! I SAID –"

"That I'm not going, Squalo. You'll have to make me." Bel giggled into his pillow, half hoping that Squalo would take him up on the obvious challenge. He needed to cut something.

Squalo rolled his eyes but said nothing. He was hotheaded, but not so much so that he would willingly fight with Bel. _Blonde's got a fucking knife fetish. No way am I stepping into that minefield. _He shrugged and made his way to the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bel raise his head in confusion and – Squalo thought – disappointment. The silver haired man snorted and rolled his eyes again. _Freak. _

He turned his head over his shoulder, gracing the blonde with one more comment before he left. "We're leaving in ten. If you aren't in the hall by then, I'll let Xanxus know why you're skipping out on his suggestion. I'm sure our manager will be pleased as punch to know you're PMS-ing again." He had just enough time to make it out the door before a knife embedded itself in the doorframe, trembling ominously.

Bel's voice floated from the open doorway. "Shi shi shi…don't insult me, peasant. I'm a prince."

Squalo snorted again, hard, nearly choking on the harsh intake of air. "Yeah? Well you'll be a dead prince if you don't get that modeling ass of yours down in ten minutes. Well, nine minutes now. Better hurry."

9:34 pm

Sixty seconds of cursing later found Bel standing in front of his closet, contemplating what to wear. Sweeping his gaze across the huge rack of stylish clothes he had obtained through various modeling gigs, he decided to play it classy. He closed his eyes and ran his hands along the hangers, settling on one and pulling it out. He then did the same again, being sure to pick a pair of pants rather than another shirt. He opened his eyes and looked at his hands. A satisfied smirk spread across his face.

9:37 pm

The blonde stood with one hand on his hip in front of the floor length mirror in his room, smirking devilishly at his reflection. He boasted a green and black striped long sleeved shirt that slid off one shoulder, a black pair of skinny jeans with silver crosses on the front, a simple white belt that settled diagonally across his hips, and a pair of white boots that laced halfway to his knees. He readjusted his crown so that it was even more tilted to the side and smirked into the mirror. The image in front of him reminded him why he had become a model in the first place.

He turned on his heel, grabbing a black leather trench coat off of a chair on his way out the door. He cast a glance at a clock as he shrugged the jacket on. 9:39.

_Perfect._

He took his time walking to the main hall.

9:45 p.m.

Squalo made no outward comment as he watched the blonde slide down the banister of the master staircase, merely raised an eyebrow and covered a smirk with his hand. _Not going my ass. _The self-proclaimed prince loved clubbing. He was just upset because – _No. That's why we're going out tonight. For a replacement. Bel can deal. _

Squalo cast another glance up the master stair, this time searching for the last addition to the group. After all, it had been _his _idea, but he still hadn't shown up. Squalo wondered aimlessly if he should go look for him, but before he could frame the thought, the missing member had already appeared, clad in nothing but a tight pair of black leather pants. Although his skin was beautifully tanned, it was heavily scarred from a life of growing up in the streets. The clothing choice for tonight – or, rather, the extreme lack of – showed off much of his skin, emphasizing the air of enticing danger that surrounded him. Squalo trailed his eyes across the man's exposed body, not noticing that he was openly staring until the man was standing right next to him, looking down at him with a smirk. His red eyes gleamed darkly as he grabbed Squalo by his silvery hair and dragged him out the door.

"Let's go trash. We're late."

"VRAAAAAAAAAAAIT! Whose fault is that?" A sharp tug on his hair nearly pulled it all from his scalp. "VRAAAAAAAAAAAIT! XANXUS!"

It was in this manner that the group left their mansion: Squalo kicking and screaming, Bel following behind, snickering incessantly. The last two members of the group followed behind, covering their own laughter with their hands as they climbed into a limo and sped off into the night.

10:00 p.m., _Il Bosque Oscura_

Music pounded throughout the dimly lit building, some estranged dance beat that apparently didn't sound right unless it was played at ear bleeding decibel level. The teen who was leaning against a wall in the far corner of the room rolled his eyes and winced, covering his ears in an effort to actually enjoy his few moments break. He was clad in dark grey skinny jeans, the type that hugged his body in all the right places, and a shirt that was so torn you couldn't even tell it was a shirt. The tears in the fabric exposed leaps and bounds of his pale, creamy skin to anyone who cared enough to look, and judging by the amount of stares he was receiving tonight, they appreciated what they saw. The teen sighed, pushing his light green hair out of his face and making his way to a long counter situated at the very back of the room. It was time for him to get back to work.

The man behind the counter looked up as he approached, a look of annoyance on his face. "Bout time you showed up. Here, these go to table 15." He slid a tray of drinks across the counter into the teens waiting hands, returning to his work without so much as another glance in the boy's direction. Rolling his eyes again, the teen turned sharply and made his way towards the designated table, weaving through the masses of writhing flesh with ease. _Seriously, you call that dancing? Half these people don't look appealing enough to be moving like that. _The teen shook his green head, careful not to let his disgust show on his face. _Pitiful._

_ If they're pitiful, _a voice whispered at the back of his mind, _what does that make you?_

The teen scowled slightly before returning his face to an expressionless mask.

_Desperate. That makes me desperate._

10:05 p.m., _Il Bosque Oscura_

Bel rested his cheek on his hand, gazing out onto the dance floor with extreme disinterest. He knew why they were here; his companions hadn't made it very difficult to figure out, even without his genius IQ. They were here to find a replacement. Simple as that. They needed to fill the void left by Mammon, their top model, even better than Bel. He had everything; mysterious look, a slim build, and a guarded attitude that made everyone fall for him. With Mammon on board, the modeling group called the Varia rose to the top of the charts. Without him, they would fall quickly, and the rival group who had claimed the purple haired teen would soon rise to take their place as number one.

So they needed a replacement.

Simple as that.

Bel picked up a butter knife from the table, carving random doodles into the old , scarred wood in front of him. He had his own knives, of course, they never left his person, but he didn't want to sully them on such a disgusting piece of wood. The entire club reeked of mediocrity, and the self-proclaimed prince couldn't wait to leave.

"VRAIT! About damn time!" Squalo's roar caused the blonde to glance up for an instant at the slim waitress who was standing next to them, a tray full of drinks in hand.

"Drinks for table 13?" She said in a sweet, innocent voice. She had bright hair, the color of it so close to orange you couldn't really call it anything else. She had wide, innocent brown doe's eyes, and she wore a completely modest black dress, complete with actual sleeves, and fell past her knees. If it hadn't been completely unreasonable, Bel would have sworn that the girl had no idea what kind of environment she was working in.

As she set the tray on the table and began distributing the drinks, Bel decided he was fed up with being bored. He tapped the girl on the shoulder, smirking when she turned to face him.

"What's your name?" He peered up at her through his bangs, delighting in the light blush that dusted her cheeks.

"I-I'm Kyoko. Pleased to meet you, sir."

Bel grinned, and Squalo shot him and unnoticed – or ignored – glare.

_What's the bastard do– _

Kyoko screamed shrilly as the blonde sliced the butter knife across her arm, exerting enough force to cut cleanly across, leaving a bleeding streak of crimson in its wake. She screamed again and backed away, turning and running towards the back of the club. The sheer noise of the music drowned out her screams, as well as the blonde's maniac laughter.

Squalo turned to the blonde, cursing loudly at him.

"VRAIT! Some genius you are! Why'd you do that you stupid freak! Now we don't have a waitress! You IDIOT!" Squalo was, of course, not concerned in the slightest about the waitress herself, but rather the lack of one their table now boasted. Bel giggled and grinned in an insane manner, kicking his feet onto the tabe and leaning back in his chair, knocking over almost all of the drinks in the process.

As Squalo continued to rant at the blonde, Xanxus silently reached across the table from his place next to Squalo and grabbed the only remaining drink. Sipping it quietly, he tried to block out the noise of the arguing not two feet from him. However, when someone next to the table coughed loudly to grab someone's attention, he moved his gaze to the side. Raising an eyebrow, he nudged Squalo in the side with his elbow – none to gently, it seemed, as the silver haired man choked on his next words and held his side in pain. But when Xanxus nodded his head toward the newcomer, Squalo turned away from the boss and toward the new waitress.

Correction.

Wait_er_.

(line break)

Kyoko's screams permeated the room behind the counter, as one of the other employee's cleaned up her arm and sent her home for the night. The man frombehind the bar, the one who organized the waiter system, caught the green haired teen watching from the doorway. "You!" He snapped, "Go grab another tray of drinks and take it to that table. You take over Kyoko's shift tonight. Do it!" Without a word, the teen slunk back out to the club area, another ear shattering song just beginning to play, some song by Ke$ha. The boy paid it no mind, grabbing five drinks at random off of the bar and walking slowly across the dance floor. He really didn't want to meet this insane knife wielder, but if that's what got him his paycheck…

As he neared the table, he could tell they were arguing. Well, two of them were; an effeminate man with long silver hair and a very non-feminine voice, who seemed to be the source of most of the noise, and the blonde knife wielder, who was by now notorious in the teen's mind. He didn't raise his voice much above a normal conversational level, but his words seemed to enrage his silver haired companion. He stood next to the table quietly, waiting for someone to notice him. The other occupants of the table seemed unaware of the yelling, conversing quietly amongst themselves or ignoring it altogether. He cleared his throat loudly, hoping to draw some attention. The only one who noticed was the silent shirtless one, the one who seemed to be in command; he had a frightening air about him, and the waiter took a small step back when he caught the man's gaze.

He elbowed the silver haired one; that's what it looked like, anyway, and then there were two staring at him. The teen was beginning to feel more uncomfortable by the second, and took another small step back. He should have just set down the drinks and run, but it was too late for that now. Even the other two quiet ones were staring now, drawn in by the sudden lack of noise. The only one who didn't seem to care was the blonde, much to the boy's relief. He didn't have much of a hankering to get stabbed tonight.

Clearing his throat again, he closed the small distance between him and the table and set the drinks down softly. He handed them out just as quietly, a murmured "Here are your drinks" the only indication that he even had a voice. _Why are you so frightened? They're just customers, you have customers every night. Why are these ones any different?_

As he set the last drink in front of the blonde, he nodded to the rest of the table and turned to leave.

_Whack_

The blow sent him stumbling forward, and the feeling of ice cold liquid running down his practically bare back made him shiver violently. A maniac laugh behind him caused his expression to darken before smoothing into a perfectly neutral mask. He straightened, using his hand to shake any remaining shards of glass from his hair, and trying not to gag at the overpowering stench of alcohol. He turned to face the table, and was greeted with a group of shocked expression, save one, who was grinning like a maniac. The blonde was the only one without a drink in front of him, leaving little doubt as to who had thrown his drink at the teen's head.

The boy gritted his teeth, his annoyance winning out over his previous fear. Without a thought, he strode over to the table and slammed both hands down on the old wood, leaning in toward the blonde, his face still expressionless.

"I'm sorry sir, is there a problem?" The boy spoke through a practically closed mouth; he feared if he actually opened it, he would say something he shouldn't to a paying customer.

The blonde laughed.

He _laughed. _

"Shi shi shi…the drink was not what the prince ordered. Fetch another, peasant; and get it _right _this time. Or I'll make you bleed." He laughed again – giggled, really – and leaned back in his chair, obviously expecting to be obeyed.

And, in truth, he should be obeyed. He is a paying customer, after all. The teen sighed and removed his hands from the table. "I'm sorry the drink wasn't to your liking. Unfortunately, I have no idea which drink you are referring to. Would you mind telling me exactly what you want?"

The blonde grinned, a silver crown in his hair glinting in multiple different colors due to the strobe lights on the dance floor. "Shi shi shi…nope."

The teen felt his face furrow in confusion for an instant, but he smoothed it out before anyone saw.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm a prince. A prince doesn't have to tell the peasant anything. Now go get me my drink."

Without a word, the teen hooked his foot around the leg of the so called prince's chair and tugged sharply. The blonde had been balancing the chair on two legs, so the sharp tug was all it took to send him unceremoniously to the ground.

The stunned silence of his companions went unnoticed as the teen stepped on the blonde's chest and leaned forward to stare into his bang-covered eyes.

"Listen here, fake prince. Just because I'm a waiter in a dingy club like this doesn't mean I take shit from people like you. You think you're better than me? You're not. You're nothing to me. No, you're worse than nothing. You're useless. Just a useless fake prince who needs to bully others in order to feel like a king. Get your own damn drink."

With that, he removed his foot and stepped back, picked his tray up off the floor where he had dropped it, and turned to the others at the table as if the blonde wasn't even there.

"While I'm here, would any of you like another drink? The margarita selection is –"

He never finished his sentence. A stinging pain in his arm caused him to cry out, his expressionless mask forgotten in his surprise. He struggled to wipe his face of emotion, but his attacker was making it difficult. He kicked his legs out from under him, causing both of them to fall to the floor. The teen hit the back of his head on the floor, the previous wound caused by the blonde's glass opening wider and beginning to bleed sluggishly. The blonde in question was straddling his hips, a strangely shaped knife in his hand. Grinning crazily, he lowered the knife again into the teen's arm, and the boy had to fight to keep silent as pain laced up his arm.

The blonde frowned at the lack of noise, and twisted the blade a little, and a little more when the boy remained stone silent. With a scowl, the blonde removed the knife from the teen's skin, only to stab in the same place again an instant later. "Come on, you stupid frog, _scream_." With his words, Bel twisted his knife fully around in the teen's arm, splattering blood all over his hand, and the boy's pale skin.

He screamed.

The noise seemed to startle the blonde, and he froze in his actions. A look of confusion swept across his face as he stared at the boy beneath him. Tears were streaming silently down his cheeks, his teeth clenched in silence and his green hair plastered to his skin with a mix of alcohol and sweat. His face, though tense and shaking, remained expressionless, even when faced with pain. He showed nothing, seemingly felt nothing. Another tear forced its way out of the corner of his eye, and the blonde quickly captured it on his finger. He licked it off his finger, the look of confusion deepening.

"Mammon?"

The teen opened his eyes, he lips moving to form words between clenched teeth.

"No. Not Mammon. Fran. My name is Fran, you bastard."

Bel slowly became aware of the people around him. Squalo had a strong grip on him, pulling him off of the teen and towards the door of the club. Lussuria had rushed over to the fallen boy, starting to tend to his wounds. Levi was keeping the crowd at bay, foe everyone had stopped to watch in horror, and was now in a frantic frenzy. Xanxus did nothing but observe, looking at the boy with the same expression he always wore; a bored, uninterested look, tinged with slight anger. He shrugged and returned to his drink.

He barely registered Squalo yelling at him on the walk home. He was slowly coming back to himself, slowly coming down from the insanity that had gripped him in the bar. The boy had so resembled Mammon in that instant; his hair style, his skin, even his tears had tasted the same. Mammon, too, was the only one who _ever _spoke to him the way that boy had.

But it wasn't Mammon. Mammon was still gone, turned into competition. And this _kid_ was all that was left of the model. Some green haired, snot nosed frog who didn't know when to keep his mouth shut.

_Fran._

It had only been a few minutes since he heard it, but Bel decided he hated it already.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n: Here's chapter two, guys! Thanks so much for your reviews, they really brighten my day~! I have some more background for you at the end of the chapter this time :P See you there! **

**Enjoy~! **

"_Come on, you stupid frog, _scream._"_ The blonde's face twisted into a feral smile as the boy beneath him did just that, screamed and screamed and screamed. But no matter how much he screamed, the blonde wouldn't go away. His arm was on fire, pain lancing all the way down to his fingers, which grasped at anything he could reach to try and relieve the pain. He couldn't move his arm; the blonde had it pinned to the ground, his knife piercing almost entirely through to the other side. With another choked scream, Fran shut his lips, fighting against the noise pooling in his throat, trying to deny his attacker the pleasure of knowing how much it hurt.

_Bel's knife cut all the way through, the poor thing. _

The blonde applied more pressure, his grin growing impossibly wider. For an instant, Fran forgot the pain. _If he keeps grinning like that, his face will break, _the boy thought in passing, but as the blonde's knife finally broke through the underside of his arm, he quickly forgot about his grin. He forgot about everything. The only thing that existed was pain, and the heavy weight of the blonde on top of him – the nameless attacker who took pleasure in assaulting him.

_Will he wake up?_

He screamed again. He couldn't help it. His attacker had twisted the knife, almost all the way around. Fran felt the blood leaving his body, trickling down his arm in rivulets and pooling on the ground beneath him. He was beginning to feel dizzy, and wished to fall unconscious. It would stop if he just passed out…

_I don't know. He lost a lot of blood. I wouldn't be surprised if he decides not to wake for a while. He's been through a lot._

He didn't know how long it was. I could have been hours, or seconds, but suddenly, the attack stopped. He felt a hand caress his cheek, capturing a tear that Fran hadn't realized he shed. He kept his eyes closed, unwilling to wake from this dream, a dream where it was all over.

_Does he have family?_

"_Mammon?"_

The blonde spoke, a tone of confusion in his voice. Fran peeled open his eyes, fresh tears seeping out as the pain in his arm worsened. The blonde had taken he knife out, but blood still flowed freely from the wound. He winced, forcing the words through his lips.

_No. His family died years ago. The poor thing is all alone._

"_No. Not Mammon. Fran. My name is Fran, you bastard."_

The blonde slumped back onto his heels, the knife dropping from his hand with a clatter. Fran closed his eyes, uncaring of what happened next, only happy that the attack was finally…over.

_It's over. I'm alive, it's over. I'm alive._

_For now._

Blackness.

(Pretend this is a line break)

Bel rolled over on his bed, his covers rumpling beneath him. He hadn't left his room since last night's disaster – it had been nearly an entire day, and the blonde had no intentions of setting foot out of his room. He closed his eyes, fingering one of his silver knives in his hand before snapping his eyes open and throwing it at an opening door across the room. The knife landed with enough force to embed itself in the wood all the way to the hilt. The door stopped opening, and Bel could glimpse a flash of silver hair through the barely open crack.

"Vrait…Bel. Are you going to come down and eat?"

Bel scowled, and hurled another knife at the door in reply. It hit the wood, but didn't stick, and fell to the floor with a clatter. Squalo sighed.

"…Lussuria is worried about you."

Another knife flew toward the door, joining its partner on the floor with another clatter.

Squalo kicked the door open and ducked as another three knives flew his way. He ran toward the blonde's bed before he could get his hands on more knives, and pinned his arms to his sides. Bel glared up at the man, his nose flaring in indignation and his hidden eyes wide with anger. Squalo's own pale eyes were passive, showing no emotion except a faint concern. Bel scowled and looked away. He hated this side of Squalo.

"Bel. He's gone. You need to accept that, because nothing is going to change it. _Especially _not mauling your waiter at the club. He's still unconscious; Lussu's doing all he can, but we don't know when he'll wake up. If he ever will." Bel turned his head back toward the other male, a sarcastic smirk playing across his features.

"Why should the prince give a damn about how that stupid frog is doing? It's none of the prince's business." He giggled insanely, the smirk growing into a grin.

Squalo hissed with impatience, shaking Bel roughly. "What's wrong with you, Bel? You're the one who hurt him, so you're responsible for his life. If he dies, it's your fault." Bel just giggled again and tore his wrists from Squalo's grasp. He had a handful of knives drawn before Squalo could even blink, and he waved them threateningly.

"Get out of the prince's room, or you'll be worse off than the frog."

Squalo sighed and backed away, his hands raised in defense.

"Fine, Bel. Whatever. Just be ready for your gig tomorrow, or Xanxus will have your princely head." He strode out of the room without another word, shutting the door softly behind him.

Bel stared at the closed door for a few moments. He had forgotten he had a photo shoot tomorrow afternoon; if Squalo hadn't come to remind him, he would have missed it. He growled in annoyance, grabbing a pillow from behind him and chucking it at the door. It joined his knives on the floor with a muted thump.

_Squalo is so annoying when he's kind._

The blonde got up, gathered his knives and slipped them back into his pocket. His pillow he threw back on the bed. Before he also returned to his bed, he walked silently over to his closet, digging through the mountains of clothes on the floor before walking back with a photo album. He flopped back on the bed, opening the book to the middle and staring.

It was a picture of him and Mammon, doing the only photo shoot they had ever modeled together. They had been modeling for a company who produced darker toned clothes, and had both been selectively chosen – Mammon because of his ghostly pale skin, Bel for his mane of gold hair, both of which contrasted nicely with the dark colors. Bel was decked out in a dark red tank top, with a black leather jacket on top, falling off of one shoulder stylishly. The jeans he wore were slightly baggy and a little too big, exposing a silver of skin near his hip. On his feet he wore a pair of fashionably torn black sneakers, with a red stripe down the length of the shoe. He was looking away from the camera, his crown gleaming in the glare of the camera flash.

After the shoot had finished, even Squalo had grudgingly agreed the clothes suited Bel nicely, albeit through clenched teeth and was immediately followed by thousands of critiques. But even Bel at his best couldn't compare to Mammon.

The teen was petite, 5'3" to Bel's near 6 foot, yet the black clothes made him seem dangerous and menacing. However, the boy's soft features counteracted the clothes, making him seem gentle and delicate even as he seemed dangerous. Such was Mammon's talent; he could take two concepts that opposed each other thoroughly and meld them together to make beauty. No one rivaled him in this respect, not even Bel, who was a genius in his own right. Some things just couldn't be copied.

Mammon hadn't been wearing a shirt, just a simply cut black silk vest, sequins sewn along the edges. He left it unbuttoned, exposing a large quantity of ghost pale skin to the cameras. A tight pair of dark grey skinny jeans adorned his legs, the grey fabric sewn together and accentuated with a deep red thread, matching the color of Bel's shirt. He unabashedly wore a pair of low heels, pushing for a few more inches to add to his height. His fingernails were painted with a shiny black polish, and he held a dark red rose in his hand. The finishing touch to his outfit was a black cap with a skull insignia sewn onto the rim. The teen wore it slightly to the side, so as not to hide his face. His entire body faced the cameras, his face turned slightly to the side, eyes downcast to stare at the rose in his hand. His eyes were accentuated with a light appliance of black eyeliner, his purple hair hanging lose around his face. He was truly breathtaking.

"_Hey, Bel. What do you think?"_

_The blonde finished adjusting his crown in the mirror and turned to look at his modeling companion. It was all he could do to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. Mammon was gorgeous; the clothes he was wearing cast his entire person in a mysterious light. The teen smirked at Bel's reaction. "That bad, huh?" he quipped as he walked over to the mirror. He pulled at the vest he wore and sighed resignedly. "I'd better be getting paid really well for this gig. I'm wearing practically nothing." Bel silently commended the directors of this shoot for Mammon's outfit in the purple haired teen's stead. _

_He stared as the teen continued to tweak his outfit, smoothing out creases and twisting fabric to make it fall just the way he liked it. Bel bit his lip, reaching his hand out to tap Mammon on the shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak as the teen turned his way, but he was interrupted. _

"_VRAAAAAIT! BEL! MAMMON! GET YOUR ASSES OUT HERE, WE'RE STARTING!"_

_Mammon rolled his eyes and turned toward the door. "C'mon, let's get this over with and get paid." Bel chuckled and followed the teen out to the stage, trying not to be disappointed. After all, he would have many more chances to talk to Mammon._

Bel opened his eyes, snapping himself out of the memory and laughing darkly, and got up to face his mirror. He lifted his bangs to stare himself in the eyes, enraged to see them shining with tears. He flopped his hair back down with a sharp noise of discontent, and looked away from his reflection in disgust.

_At least, that's what I thought. _

(line break)

Lussuria was organizing the sparse room for the umpteenth time, trying to busy himself so that he wouldn't constantly worry over his patient. The teen needed space to recover, and having someone hover at his bedside wouldn't help. Even so, the flamboyant man, serious for once in his life, couldn't stop himself from glancing over at the sickbed every few minutes or so, silently willing the boy to awaken. It had only been about a day, but Lussuria thought that by now, the boy would have shown some sign of life. As of yet, the only sign that he was alive was the steady blip of the machine next to him, monitoring his heartbeat carefully. The machine had been beeping at the same slow, steady rate for the past twenty-four hours. It had become simple background noise to the other man, so it took him a minute to sense something was different.

Lussuria looked up from his organization sharply, casting a glance over at the bed once again. He pinpointed the source of discomfort immediately; the boy was shifting around, and the machine next to him was going into overdrive, his heart rate increasing at an alarming rate. Lussuria closed the distance between his patient and him with one large leap, trying to calm the restless boy long enough for him to figure out what was happening.

It didn't take him long, for the green haired teen's eyes fluttered once, before closing again. His brow was creased in discomfort, and he continued to jerk around on the bed, the sheen of sweat on his forehead clearly visible in the well-lit room

He was waking up.

_And it seems like he's coming back to us with a bang. _

(Line breaaaaak)

_I've relived this damn well enough times. When will it stop?_

His attacker was atop him again, stabbing him in the arm again and again, his insane laughter piercing Fran's ears and resonating in his head. The boy screamed in anger, his concealed emotions not evident in his features. His arm felt heavy, immobile, and painful. His eyes, which he had scrunched closed against the pain, fluttered open for an instant. His brow furrowed in confusion as he struggled to open his eyes again.

_What? Where am I?_

He hadn't seen the club, or the blonde's grinning face. He had seen a lot of white, and…rainbow?

"_Hey…Hey…kid…"_

His eyes fluttered open again, for a few more seconds.

_Yeah, I see a rainbow…am I dead?_

_ "Kid…wake up now…you're safe"_

The rainbow was talking to him. He was definitely dead. No doubt about it. He somehow found the ability to speak.

"Shhh…you're a rainbow. Rainbows aren't supposed to talk."

A few seconds of silence, and then a loud laugh broke through the Fran's senses. His brow furrowed again. The laugh reminded him of someone else, and suddenly his arm flared with pain.

"…Ah!"

The laughter stopped immediately. He felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly.

_"C'mon, kid. You can do it. Wake up."_

_ What is the rainbow talking about? I'm dead._

Nonetheless, he forced his eyes to open. He was slowly regaining control of his body, so it wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. His vision was blurry, as if he'd been asleep for a long time. The rainbow next to him was still speaking words of encouragement, willing him to stay awake. Fran concentrated on focusing his eyes on something, anything. He blinked, and everything became clear.

He blinked again.

_…That's not a rainbow…_

It was one of the people from the club. He had a multi-colored mohawk sitting atop his head like some kind of exotic bird, which had fueled Fran's rainbow idea. His eyes were hidden by a pair of sunglasses, but his expression was a cross of concern and jubilation. Fran raised one eyebrow as the man did a happy little jig around the room, calling out the door "Guys~! He's awake~!" before returning to the side of the bed. Fran took note of the scarf the man wore; it was quite possibly the most hideous thing he had ever seen, orange and fluffy and…_orange._ It also clashed horribly with his hair. Fran rolled his eyes, secretly delighted that he had found a movement that didn't _hurt_.

Movement at the door caused Fran and his caretaker to look that way, and Squalo entered the room, Xanxus following behind him silently, and Levi following _him, _imitating a love struck puppy so diligently that he was almost drooling. His attacker, Fran was relieved to see, wasn't among them.

_ All these people were at the club…where am I?_

Fran struggled to sit up, but the rainbow man put a hand on his shoulder to stop him

"That's not really smart, hun. You could hurt yourself worse, and your arm –"

Fran wasn't hearing it, and continued to inch himself into a sitting position, leaning heavily on the backboard to his bed. His doctor of sorts sighed and helped him sit up, while one of his spectators chuckled quietly.

"Vrait…I figured that someone who yelled at Bel with that much gusto would be stubborn. We have our work cut out for us."

_Bel. _

So his attacker finally had a name.

Fran looked impassively at the group before inclining his head slightly. "Thank you for caring for me. I hope I didn't cause you trouble."

The man next to him laughed.

"Well, hun, it is kinda our fault you got hurt. It was the least we could do."

Fran couldn't help but agree, but he kept his thoughts to himself. He continued to stare at the group, voicing another thought.

"So…where am I?"

They all looked at one another, and a few awkward seconds passed before the tall one with silver hair spoke up. Fran remembered him as the loud one at the club.

"Vrait…uh…well, you're at our house…well, mansion really. Um, see we're all…well, we all work for…VRAIT, Lussuria! You do it!"

The man next to him may have rolled his eyes – Fran couldn't tell because of the sunglasses – and took over. "Let me start with introductions, then. I'm Lussuria. The shy one there is Squ-chan, the anti-social one is Xan-chan, and the puppy is Levi. We –"

"VRAIIIIITTTT! WHAT'S WITH THE '-CHAN'?"

Fran winced at the volume, and tried to keep up.

After about thirty minutes of back and forth, Fran was developing a massive headache, but understood the general information. Everyone was a part of a modeling group called the Varia – the models themselves were Xanxus, Squalo, Bel, and on some occasions Lussuria. Levi was the business manager, since he was too ugly to be a model, and Lussuria was primarily a manager also, when he wasn't working a doctor, cook, and housecleaner for the rest of the models. Fran chalked him up to be the mom of the group, not that he would ever say it out loud. There were other modeling groups that they were in competition with, with strange names like the Vongola, the Millefiore, and the Arcobaleno, and smaller groups that were just starting, whose names Fran had already forgotten. The more competition there is, the harder it is to get a good gig, so tensions were always high, but if a gig went well, then word got out, and more fashion lines would want the group to model for them. It made sense to Fran, so he could follow what was going on pretty well.

When the explaining died down a bit, Fran voiced a question that had been chewing at him since he woke up.

"Who's Mammon?"

The room fell eerily silent. Squalo cleared his throat.

"He was once one of our models. He was our best, actually, but other groups thought that too. He was offered a place with the Arcobaleno and…he took it. He's competition now and…Bel isn't taking it very well. He was very close to Mammon."

Squalo stared at Fran's face intently. "You kinda look like him, actually. Your hair is a different color, but your features are very much the same. Even your body type…are you related?"

Fran shook his head carefully. "I'd never heard the name before in my life before I heard Bel say it last night."

The room fell awkwardly silent before Lussuria spoke up. "Speaking of names, hun, what's yours?"

All eyes were on him. Fran cleared his throat nervously.

"My name is Fran."

Lussuria smiled and patted his shoulder kindly. "Fran-chan, then." He ignored the look Fran shot him in response to the addition to his name and plowed on through. "Let me give you some medicine for your arm. You should be up and about by tomorrow if you want. I'll whip up a sling too, so you don't have to worry about stressing your arm." As the man turned away, Fran raised an eyebrow.

_Why does it seem like everything he says should have a '~(heart)' after it?_ **(1)**

Squalo stepped forward, and Fran's eyes snapped to him. He looked like he was about to say something. "Vrait, Lussuria…before you knock him out with pain meds…" He faced Fran to say his next words. "Look, I know it's really sudden, but we need you. With Mammon gone, our popularity is already falling fast. We need fresh, new talent, and you conveniently fell into our laps. Listen, we owe you. The medical care anyone could have done, but we want to give you something better. Work for us. I assure you it's much better paying that working in a dingy club as a waiter. And you'll have a place to live, clothes to wear, and company…er, well, not really normal company…Vrait, whatever. Do you accept?"

Fran blinked. He would never have to work in that club again? A place to live? Albeit with crazy inhabitants, but he had to admit a mansion was much better than a crappy apartment. Like, way better. But there was one problem…

"What about the fake prince? I'm sure he'll be ecstatic to find out I'm staying here." They all exchanged worried looks.

"We'll take care of Bel-chan." Lussuria said, but Fran could see he was very worried. "He won't hurt you again, I promise."

_Empty promise. Bel will do what he wants. _Fran didn't even know the man that well, but he could tell that was the case.

Even so.

A new _job._

Fran nodded. Everyone in the room looked surprised, but tried to hide it. "I accept. Being a model sounds way better than being a waiter. When do I start?"

The entire room blinked. Fran waited patiently as they all adjusted to his easy acceptance. Even Lussuria looked thrown. Squalo was the first to recover.

"You can start whenever you feel up to walking. We'll show you the ropes, and you'll be doing photo shoots in no time. But for now," he turned toward the door, looking over his shoulder as his hair waved around him, "get better. That's your only job." He walked out of the room with a stunning grace that Fran was surprised to see in such a man. He had thought Squalo would be more hard and calloused, not in any way graceful.

_Must be the hair._

Even without the pain medication Lussuria was giving him now, he felt extremely tired. All the talking and information had worn him out. His eyes slid shut as the others filed out of the room, and Lussuria carefully settled the teen in a more comfortable sleeping position. Fran was asleep before his head hit the pillows. Lussuria gathered his things as quietly as possible and stole out of the room, giving the boy one final glance before closing the door softly.

Squalo was waiting for him in the hall.

"Vraiitt…is he gonna be okay?"

Lussuria smiled. Squalo was usually obnoxiously loud and mean, but his soft streak was really astounding.

"He'll be fine. Just keep Bel away from here. I don't want him stabbing to poor child in his sleep." Squalo muttered in agreement. "Kid should at least be _awake _when that happens." He started walking purposefully down the hall, Lussuria trotting to catch up. "Squ-chan~! Where are you going?"

Squalo didn't bother to look at him, instead speaking to the space in front of him.

"I'm going to tell Bel. I'd guard Fran's door if I were you…just in case."

**A/n: Hello again! **

**I feel constantly when I'm writing Lussuria that I should put a ~(heart) after EVERYTHING he says…but I digress. **

**So, as you read in the chapter, the other main modeling groups are the Vongola (Tsuna & co.), the Millefiore (Byakuran and his True guardians), and the Arcobaleno (Reborn & co…but they're not babies, they're normal adults) I'm also going to try and throw the Kyokou gang in there, as well as other floaters, like Ganma and Uni. Oh, and the reason I'm not using Enma's family is that I've only watched the anime, I haven't read the manga…so I have no idea what happens after Byakuran. ^_^**

**You can expect pairings in these groups as well. The main pairings will still be BelFran and XanxusSqualo, but there will be other side ones like SOMEONE x Tsuna and Collonello x Lal for sure. **

**That is all for now! See you next chapter!**

**(ps; don't expect all of my updates to be this fast…this is some kind of miracle, that I wrote it this quickly…)**

**Bye bii~~~**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n: Since I love proving myself wrong, I updated the next chapter! Quickly! *is proud of self* Thanks for the reviews! It's because of you that this chapter got written so quickly :D**

**Warning: Rated M for language and violence. Lots of violence. You have been warned.**

**Oh, and I don't own KHR. Obviously. **

"Shi shi shi…you're _joking._"

The blonde was staring in disbelief at the silver haired man in front of him. Squalo had come knocking on his door for the second time in as many hours, and Bel was less than pleased to see him. And that was _before _he had opened his mouth.

"I'm not joking Bel."

Bel's eyes widened beneath his bangs, and he took a small step back. The expression on Squalo's face was serious and stony, and rather frightening, but it wasn't what had upset the blonde. No, Squalo's words had scared him far more than his face.

It had just been…words. No exclamation of anger, or annoyance, or even the kindness that Bel so despised. No signature "VRAIT!" before his sentence. Just words. Bel racked his memory for a time when Squalo had spoken just words and drew a blank. It just never happened.

It was all the proof he needed that Squalo was dead serious.

As the shock slowly wore off, it was replaced with an emotion that Bel was better acquainted with. Anger. Betrayal. He could feel his temper rising, darkening his features, turning what had once been a confused smile into a deep scowl. The first flickers of insanity swam across his line of vision, dancing on the sides of his mind. He noted Squalo's expression again – it had changed, morphed into a guarded, calculating look. Bel grinned, laughing coldly.

_He knew this would happen. And yet he told me anyway. Shi shi shi…idiot._

He had a knife drawn before he finished his thought, and he took delight in seeing Squalo's eyes widen slightly. He giggled, moving the blade slowly left and right, watching as the other man's eyes followed the knife's movements carefully. He kept his victim in suspense a while longer before finally speaking.

"Now, peasant, tell me what you meant when you said 'He's staying'" He waved the knife threateningly in Squalo's direction, still moving it from side to side. Squalo scowled at the question and gestured wildly with his hand.

"VRAIIT! What d'you mean, 'what I meant'? I meant what I SAID! Fran's staying with us. He's gonna model for us since we lost Ma – "

Squalo paled at the blonde's sudden closeness. He felt the distinct prick of a blade at the base of his throat, trailing slowly across his skin. He gulped, a light sheen of sweat breaking out across his forehead.

_V-v-vrait. He wouldn't dare hurt me…right?_

Bel's horrific expression spoke otherwise. His face was inches from Squalo's own, his visible features completely void of emotion. Just as Squalo's simple statement from earlier had unsettled Bel, the complete lack of expression on the blonde's face unnerved Squalo to no end. The blonde always wore some kind of expression; be it a shit eating grin, a haughty smirk, or a puzzled frown, there was always _something _there. Staring into the blonde's blank face, Squalo found himself thinking that having Bel's face twisted into a murdering rage would have been better than this.

"Leave."

The harsh word shattered the silence, only to enhance the tense atmosphere. Bel hadn't moved an inch from his position, and neither had his knife. The only way Squalo could escape the knife wielder was to back out of the oh-so-tempting door behind him. Squalo shook his head slowly, feeling the distinct trickle of blood as his movement caused the blade to break the skin of his throat. The pressure on his throat increased slightly, causing more blood drip from his neck.

"_Leave!"_

Squalo took a deep breath before stepping back, his hands up. Suddenly, his entire situation seemed very familiar. He flashed back to just an hour before, when he had last visited Bel. He had left the room back then in the same manner he was about to now.

_…This has got to stop._

Without warning, Squalo smirked and used his raised hands to grab tightly onto Bel's wrists, forcing them away from his neck. For a fraction of a second, Squalo thought that Bel was going to give up without a fight. A sharp kick to his shin erased any fantasies he had, and caused him to holler in pain.

"VRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIT! BEL! WHAT THE FUCK?"

Bel didn't say a word, instead trying his damnedest to break free of Squalo's grip, wriggling and kicking with all the strength he had, using the limited rotation in his wrist to maneuver his knife to Squalo's skin. He almost succeeded when Squalo shook him roughly, forcing him to pull the knife back or risk dropping it.

"VRAIT. BEL. He's _gone._ He's not coming back. Mammon. Is. Not. Coming. _Back._ You need to get a fucking hold of yourself." Bel froze at the change in Squalo's voice. He met the man's eyes through his bangs, enraged to see them laced with concern.

He _hated _this side of Squalo.

Without another thought, Bel twirled the knife through his fingers and stabbed his captor in the wrist. Squalo screamed and dropped him immediately, his good hand going to his left wrist and yanking the bloodied knife out of his skin. It fell to the floor with a clatter, nearly masking the blonde's low laugh as he pulled another knife from his pocket. Squalo's eyes widened and he took a step back, his right hand gripping his wrist in an effort to stop the blood.

"Vrait…Bel…"

The blonde laughed louder and lunged toward the other man. They both went sprawling to the ground, Squalo's head hitting the wooden floor with a resounding crack. His vision went blurry as he tried to force the blonde off of him, struggling and shouting with all his might.

"VRAIIITTT! XANXUS! GET UP HERE AND HELP M-"

His yells froze in his throat as he felt the touch of metal against the skin of his injured wrist. Sometime during their fight, Squalo's right hand had moved from his injury, and was now pinned to the right side of his body, leaving his wrist open to the insane blonde.

Bel applied more pressure, a sadistic grin spreading across his face.

"Shi shi shi…I told you, _Squalo. _I told you to stay out of my room…but you didn't _listen. _Shi shi shi~" The knife's tip was already embedded in Squalo's skin when Bel dragged it cleanly from one side of his wrist to the other, causing Squalo to start screaming again. They weren't the same as before; these screams were laced through and through with pain and desperation. Squalo gritted his teeth, unashamed of the tears flowing down his cheeks. "Xan..XANXUS!"

"Shi shi shi. He can't hear you~"

There was a flash of silver, and then another burst of pain. Squalo choked on his next bout of screams as the blonde assaulted his wrist with constant slashes. His vision was starting to blur around the edges, darkness slowly spreading across his eyes. He blinked once, a fresh wave of tears trickling down his face. He couldn't believe how hard it was to open his eyes again.

He couldn't feel his hand anymore. He couldn't really see anymore, either.

But he could hear. He could hear Bel's insane laughter as he shredded his wrist to pieces, surely severing his hand by now. He could hear his own ragged breathing, the sickening drip of blood as it hit the wooden floor beneath him. He could also hear the race of footsteps on the stairs in the hall, and then suddenly there was noise. Huge, loud, achingly complex noise, and the sound of everyone talking at once. Squalo recognized it vaguely.

Panic. Confusion. Fear.

It all disappeared, though, with the touch of a hand. Squalo blinked and found himself staring into two pools of red, so deep he could drown in them. He somehow managed to smile, lifting his good hand to touch the man's face. It was then he realized that Bel was gone.

"Vrait…Xanxus…you came."

Another hand clasped his own, and Squalo held onto it as if it were his lifeline. The pools of red softened, the rage in them lessening for an instant to reveal a soft side that only Squalo could see.

He uttered a strangled chuckle. "Of course I did, trash."

It was all he said, but Squalo was able to slip into unconsciousness with a smile.

It took all of thirty seconds after Squalo lost consciousness for Xanxus to leap to his feet with a snarl, whirling to face the rest of the room. Lussuria and Levi had tried to get Bel to calm down, but had ended up hitting him over the head with a lamp. The blonde lay limp on the floor, his crown lying a few feet away among the shattered bits of knife and light bulb. It took everything Xanxus had not to kick the man.

"Lussuria, get Squalo and take care of his hand. I don't care what you have to do, but _save him._" His eyes narrowed dangerously, and the flamboyant man gulped and scurried over to Squalo with a sharp nod. Xanxus turned to Levi next. "Levi…take Bel and get the fuck out of my sight. You and that piece of shit both." Levi nodded and dragged Bel by his feet out into the hallway. As an afterthought, Xanxus called out him "Lock him up somewhere quiet. I'll deal with him…later." He heard Levi's grunt of agreement before turning his attention back to his fallen comrade.

Lussuria was kneeling next to him, frantically to staunch the flow of blood from the stump that once was Squalo's hand. Xanxus knelt by the man, taking the bandages from his frantic hands and meeting his panicked gaze. "I'll bandage him. You stop the bleeding." Lussuria nodded, getting up immediately to look for something to use as a tourniquet. Xanxus methodically wrapped Squalo's wrist in gauze, trying to work fast enough that the blood wouldn't completely soak through before he finished. By the time Lussuria returned with one of Bel's belts, he was already out of the bandage, and the white was already stained with red. Lussuria quickly looped the belt around Squalo's forearm, cinching it as tight as it would go and holding it in place with the final piece of gauze from the roll in his back pocket. Lussuria sat back, panting, before turning to Xanxus.

"I need him downstairs. I can help him more there. You carry him, I'll get Fran-chan out."

Without waiting for an answer, Lussuria flew out of the room, his hideous orange scarf waving in his wake. Xanxus took a moment to stare at his fallen man. His beautiful silver hair was matted and stained with blood. His skin was ghostly pale, his breathing more shallow than Xanxus would have liked. And his hand…

Xanxus cursed harshly. His hand was gone, and what was left was a bloody mess. With a sharp sigh, he gently scooped Squalo into his arms and stood, walking swiftly out the door without another glance into the room behind him.

_It's all Bel's fault. Bel did this. How…_

_How to punish him?_

(The Next Morning)

Fran woke up suddenly and had no idea where he was.

Meaning he knew that he was still in the Varia mansion, even though he still had no clue where the mansion actually was. But he had never seen this room before.

_This is definitely not the same room I fell asleep in. What the hell?_

The room contained so much green, Fran felt like he had shrunk to the size of a bug and got chucked into the grass. The walls were painted a dark forest green, while the ceiling was a lighter color, almost pastel. The floor was dark hardwood, but was covered in some places with lush green carpets. The floor, along with the bed and desk that adorned the room, was the only thing that wasn't green. Even the comforter on the bed and the door to the closet were an appealing shade of green. Fran noticed he blended right in with his green hair and eyes.

As pretty as the room was, Fran still had no idea how he got there. He shifted slightly, delightedly surprised when he realized his arm was pleasantly numb. Lussuria must have dosed him with medicine while he was asleep. He arm was bandaged neatly, and there was a simple sling hanging from the bedpost near his head. As Fran sat up and lifted the sling from its resting place, a folded piece of paper fell from the folded fabric.

Fran blinked, securing his arm in the sling before reaching down with his functioning hand to pick up the note. His eyebrow twitched as he read it out loud to himself.

"Fran-chan. Sorry to move you so suddenly, hun~ Something happened last night, I needed the room. Come downstairs when you wake up – breakfast is always ready. See you~!"

Even without the 'Fran-chan' and 'hun' in the letter, Fran would have known it was Lussuria's doing just by the huge pink heart scribbled at the bottom of the note. Fran shook his head and left the note on his bed, making his way to the door in silence. Despite the note's flippant nature, he could tell that whatever had happened wasn't as simple as the rainbow man had made it sound.

Fran's thoughts immediately went to Bel. He scowled mentally, hating that the blonde was already on his mind this early in the morning. He knew from experience that the fake prince was dangerous, and if any trouble had happened, he was definitely part of it.

_Especially if Lussuria needed the infirmary…_

The note had just told him to 'come downstairs', so when Fran noticed the huge stairwell to his right, he shrugged and made his way down it.

He could have sworn he heard a scratching sound coming from the door at the end of the hall, but when he paused for a minute to make sure, the hallway was silent. He blinked away the strange feeling he had and continued down the stairs.

He didn't see the doorknob jiggle, or one of the screws that held it together fall to the ground. He didn't hear the 'plink' of the screw as it hit the wooden floor, or the faint laughter that accompanied the victory.

_Shi shi shi~_

(line break)

Fran found his way to the kitchen by pure sense of smell. He must have woken when breakfast was just being made, because the smell of waffles, sausage, eggs, and orange juice wafted through the entire mansion, giving him a perfect trail to the kitchen. As he got closer, Fran could hear the sound of someone arguing – he could recognize Lussuria's voice. He raised one eyebrow and entered the kitchen carefully.

It _was _Lussuria arguing. He had a cell phone pressed tightly to his ear, one finger in the other ear to block out any other noise. He seemed to be negotiating with the person on the other end.

" – understand that, hun, but is there any way we could move the gig? Our model is sick and –" Faint noise from the phone signified that someone had cut him off. "I understand that it's inconvenient, I know –" More noise, and the pause was longer this time. "What? You aren't serious!" More noise. "Well, we'll have to find some way to do this, then. Thanks for being so _helpful~_" Lussuria slammed his phone closed and placed it harshly on the table in front of him.

"What a _bitch._ Someone has her thong tied too tight this morning." The man pouted as he returned to the stove, flipping over sausages and preparing more waffle batter. He hadn't noticed Fran come in, so the teen cleared his throat loudly.

Lussuria turned with a smile. "Fran-chan~! You're up~!" He abandoned the food to hug the teen, being careful of his bandaged arm and ignoring the loud protests he was receiving. He released Fran with a smirk, pleased to see a dusting of red along the teen's face. He winked at Fran before turning back to the stove. He piled a plate high with waffles and sausage, setting it down in front of the teen with a smile.

"Here you are, cutie~ Enjoy!"

Fran choked on his orange juice. "_Cuite?"_ Lussuria laughed and skipped back to the stove to monitor the cooking food. Fran muttered curses into his food, which he wasn't about to admit was delicious, and shot the raibow-tastic man a glare. Lussuria pretended not to notice. Poking fun at the teen allowed him to forget, for an instant, the bad news he would have to tell Xanxus when he got to the kitchen.

As if he had felt Lussuria thinking about him, Xanxus entered a few seconds later, followed closely by Levi, as always. Fran noticed Xanxus' expression with interest. He seemed rougher than he had yesterday, more on the edge. He also noticed Lussuria tense at his presence, but he relaxed again almost instantly, a grin plastered on his face.

"Ah, Xan-chan! Levi! Are you hungry?" With waiting for an answer, he set two more plates loaded with food on the table. The men both sat silently and began to eat. Lussuria soon followed suit with his own plate of food, and an awkward silence fell over the table. Fran clenched his fists in his lap, trying to think of something to say. He glanced around the table for inspiration.

"Ah…where's Squalo? Is he still asleep?"

It was apparently the wrong thing to say. If he had thought everyone was tense before, it was nothing to the rigid atmosphere now. Xanxus slammed his fist on the table, and Lussuria set his forkful of food down gently. He glanced over at Fran sadly.

"Did you get my note, Fran-chan?" The teen nodded, realization flickering in his eyes. Lussuria sighed.

"Bel…attacked Squalo last night. He's still asleep, yes…and probably will be for a while. He lost his hand." Fran nearly choked on his food, pushing his plate away forcefully. He swallowed rapidly to keep himself from puking.

_He lost…his...HAND?_

His control was slipping – he could tell by the expression on Lussuria's face. The disbelief, disgust, and worry must be showing on his face. He struggled to mask his emotions again, making sure they were hidden before he spoke. "Will he be okay?"

Lussuria nodded quickly. "Oh yes, he'll be fine. He won't…have his hand, but he'll be otherwise physically fine. The worst has passed. As long as the wound doesn't get infected, he'll be better within a month." He smiled reassuringly, but Fran could see the worry in the man's eyes. Xanxus, on the other hand, relaxed visibly, and picked up his fork again.

"Good. The trash can get back to work soon then." He stuffed a large amount of waffle into his mouth and glanced at Lussuria.

"Hey, Lussuria. How did the call go?"

Fran remembered the phone conversation he had walked in, and he guessed 'not well'. The expression on Lussuria's face confirmed it.

"They refuse to move the gig, even though I told them we don't have a model. You know what they said to me? They said 'you had better find one, or we'll just have to ask someone _else _to do it'. We can't lose this gig, but…we don't have anyone to model." He stabbed a particularly juicy sausage off his plate and chewed it sullenly, a pout trembling on his lips.

Xanxus sighed and massaged his temples with his fingers. Levi spoke up immediately.

"Xanxus! I'll go to the gig! I will do it for you!" He was practically out the door already. Fran cleared his throat loudly to get his attention.

"Ah, Levi-san, not to be rude or anything, but you'd give any photographer within a mile of you a heart attack with your ugly mug. No offense." Levi froze and made a slight choking noise. He rounded on the smaller man, sputtering in anger. "And what do _you _know, newbie? You've never modeled in your life, and you're telling me what to do! You've got brass, _kid._"

Fran regarded the man coldly, not missing the emphasis on _kid._ He smirked, much to Levi's dismay, and spoke.

"What do I know? Well, for one I know you're fucking ugly. Models have to be at least somewhat attractive, and you just aren't. Offense fully intended. Secondly, I know that even on my worst day, I'm prettier than you. And thirdly, you're a hypocrite. I bet you've never modeled before, either. I may be new, but I'm not stupid. Or blind, unfortunately." He gave Levi a pointed look before turning to the table's other occupants, who were openly staring at him.

"I'll do the gig. If it's that important to the company, then it would be better for a new model to try and not do spectacularly than for no one to do it at all, right?" Lussuria recovered enough to nod once. Fran turned his gaze to Xanxus, who nodded as well. Another smirk played across the teen's lips as he stood, taking care not to bump his arm. He gestured toward his injury. "I can take the sling off for an hour or two without bugging my arm too much, I'm sure. Just explain what I'm doing on the way there, and I'll be fine. I'm good at following directions." Being a club waiter, he had learned to take orders immediately, and remember them exactly. He had never thought anything he learned at that place would help him anywhere, but he was glad to be proved wrong if it helped him in his new job.

He stared at the silent room, embarrassment slowly catching up with his outburst. He cleared his throat quietly and meeting Xanxus' eyes full on, his own eyes bright with determination. "I can do it, sir. I know I can."

Xanxus blinked, taken aback slightly by the fact he had just been called 'sir' in his own kitchen, but he recovered quickly. He scoffed, waving his hand at the teen dismissively. "If you say you can do it, kid trash, then knock yourself out. I don't care. Lussuria, you take care of it." With that, he got up and left the room. Fran blinked slowly. Despite the rough dismissal, he had the distinct impression that he had just been accepted by Xanxus. Lussuria must have agreed, because he turned to Fran with a genuine smile. It seemed he was about to start gushing all over him, but an enraged yell tore through the mansion, followed by the sound of someone running, and Xanxus cursing.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING DOWN HERE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

Lussuria gasped softly. "Shit. He got out."

Fran was about to ask who, but the culprit came barreling into the room at full speed, knocking Levi over in the process. The newcomer crashed into the table and fell to the ground, grasping his thigh and cursing eloquently. His blonde hair fell around his face, his skin a ghostly shade, due to something resembling fear, and his crown was strangely absent, but Fran recognized him instantly. He was in the same clothes he had worn the night of his attack, minus the big boots, and his entire outfit was covered in bloodstains, both older and relatively new. Fran thought about how those new bloodstains had gotten there and had to gulp down vomit again.

And then Xanxus was there, a pillar of rage that caused the entire room to freeze, the same way prey freezes when it senses a hunter nearby. Bel hissed in fear as he tried to get up and continue his flight, but Xanxus grabbed him by his shirtfront before he could blink. Fran watched warily as the blonde was slammed into the wall, various types of cutlery and china falling around him with a clatter. Bel's mouth opened as if to scream, but he was slammed into the wall again before he had the chance. Xanxus pulled his arm back and punched his captive in the head without warning. Bel let out a strangled cry, blood dripping from his open mouth as Xanxus pulled back to punch him again.

Fran thought he heard something snap.

He realized afterwards that it had been his sanity.

He raced forward and grabbed Xanxus' arm, trying to stop the punch. The man looked up in pure rage, only to meet a pair of steady green eyes. Fran blinked slowly, trying to think of a way to calm Xanxus down.

"Sir, please. Stop."

Xanxus ripped his hand out of the teen's grip, but Fran simply grabbed on again. Bel remained silent, still anticipating a blow, and knowing better than to try and get free. Fran glared at his boss, knowing his mask was slipping, but decided not to care.

"Sir, I understand. My condition is slightly different; I myself was hurt, not someone close to me, but the basics are the same. In truth, I should be helping you, not stopping you." He saw Bel tense out of the corner of his eye, but he continued to talk at a rapid pace.

"Think of what you're doing, sir. Yes, Bel hurt Squalo, but if you hurt him, you're no better than him. And if ethics don't float your boat, then there's always logic. If you kill him, then you're down another model. If you hurt him badly, then you have another patient to take up Lussuria's time, when he would otherwise be concentrating on healing Squalo. You also won't be able to do as many gigs with another model gone, which means less popularity and less pay, which leads to losing your place in the charts. Everything is related, sir, so please reconsider. I'm sure there are worse ways than pain to punish Bel."

Xanxus hadn't seemed hung on his logic at the beginning of his speech, but by the end, Fran could see he had miraculously won. Xanxus relaxed his grip on the blonde, who fell to the ground in a heap. The man turned to him, his anger receding enough to state a formal question.

"What do you propose we do, kid trash?"

Fran noticed that Bel had shifted toward him slightly, obviously paying attention. He took the time to smirk evilly at the blonde before returning his gaze to Xanxus. He shrugged.

"I need someone to show me the ropes. Make him do it. And if he complains or tries to mortally wound me, or anyone else, break his crown." A small gasp from the floor told him that he had said the right thing. He gave the blonde another smirk before continuing. "Also, you can make him do work around the mansion. I'm sure Lussuria could use the help, and it would be good for the _prince_ to do peasant's work." Fran was still smirking, the closest he ever got to smiling, and calculated Xanxus' expression. He was pleased to see that the man was considering it, and when he broke out in a feral grin, Fran knew he had won.

"Humiliation. Perfect. Good job, kid trash." He gave Bel a sharp kick, causing him to whimper and curl in on himself. "You heard him, you piece of shit. You better make sure you obey your new rules, or I _will _kill you. And the kid trash won't stop me next time."

He left the room, undoubtedly headed for the infirmary to be with Squalo. Levi followed at his heels, and Lussuria rushed by them both, to give Squalo his necessary medicine. Fran realized he was left with a person who certainly hated him, and walked slowly toward the door. He couldn't help but look back, and the prone form of the blonde almost made him run to his side, but he kept his feet planted to the floor. He clenched his fist and spoke, his emotionless mask finally in place, as was his ability to speak neutrally.

"Sorry, Bel-senpai. You probably think death would have been better. But no one should go through what Squalo and I went through. Not even you."

He left the man without another word.

(Afternoon, same day)

"Ah…Lussuria? You sure this is the place?"

The man smiled and nodded, cutting the engine of the car and opening the driver's side door. "Positive, Fran-chan. It looks better on the inside, promise~" Fran made a noncommittal sound of agreement, secretly doubting that the studio looked any less like a dump on the inside than it did on the outside. It was a small, low building, with a dented roof complete with bad shingle job. The brick that made up its walls had probably been red once, but it was so faded now that it was impossible to be certain. The graffiti that smeared the walls didn't help, either. If Fran had been walking by, he would have ducked his head and run across the street rather than pass in front of this building. Swallowing a sigh, he followed Lussuria up to the ugly front door and stepped carefully into the building, positive he was going to regret this.

"Guys~! We're here~!"

As they rounded a corner, Fran could only stare in silence at the room they had just entered.

Lussuria had been right. It was _much_ prettier on the inside. The walls were a light rose color, just a shade too light to be really called pink. There was one long red sofa and multiple plush looking chairs in what looked like a lounge area. The stage was at the far end of the room, which was seemingly larger than the house itself, and had multiple bright yellow lights shining on it. The backdrop was a very realistic rendition of a skate park, making Fran recall that the gig was an ad for a skateboard company. In between the stage and the lounge area was thousands of dollars' worth of cameras, lights, and other photo equipment. Fran blinked slowly, trying to take it all in and still appear professional, but judging by Lussuria's chuckle, he wasn't doing a very good job.

"I told you~" he whispered to the teen as two women approached them. They were practically identical, except for one had her dusty pink hair cut to her shoulders, rather than falling to the middle of her back. Their darkly tanned skin seemed to shine in the glow of the lights, but the masks they wore over their eyes made them seem rather stupid to Fran. When they opened their mouths to speak, Fran decided he liked their voices even less than their appearance.

"You're late." They both spoke at the same time, and even their voices were identical. Fran fought back a sour expression and listened carefully. "Where is your model?"

_Are they blind? I'm standing right here._

Lussuria was obviously thinking the same thing, because he looked slightly surprised as he introduced the women to Fran. "This is Fran-chan~ He'll be modeling for you today." Fran didn't like the way the women looked him over, as if he were meat to sell on the market, and turned back to Lussuria.

"Has he ever modeled before?"

_Why don't you ask _me _you stupid masked marauders?_

"This will be his first gig." Lussuria answered smoothly, calmly. The two women looked at each other in disbelief. "He hasn't modeled before?"

Lussuria smiled thinly. "That _is_ what I just said, isn't it? This will be Fran-chan's first photo shoot. Is there a problem, ladies?" One of them made a sound of scorn while the other answered.

"This child is not a professional. We, the Cervello, only photograph professional models. Please return with a _real _model, and the shoot will continue."

Fran supposed it was the pain meds that were making him so rash, for he stepped in front of Lussuria to face the women head on.

"Excuse me, but I really don't think it's up to you to decide. Certainly, if you wish to model in my place, feel free, but otherwise allow me to do my job. I wouldn't recommend you modeling though; that hair color looks absolutely horrendous with your skin tone. Is it even real? And your masks are tacky. I don't know if you're trying for a 'mysterious' look, but you failed epically. You look like two little kids playing superhero." He turned back to Lussuria, who was trying to cover his huge grin with his hand and swallow his chuckles.

"Lussuria, could you show me to the dressing room? You obviously know your way around. If you ladies would excuse us." He nodded politely to the women, reveling in their expression of shock, and followed Lussuria further into the building. The man turned to speak at him, his grin fully evident on his face.

"That, Fran-chan, was the best thing I've seen in a _long _time."

(Line break)

"Okay, good, very good. Could you turn a little more this way? Great, Fran!"

Fran let out a shaky breath as he followed the photographer's direction, turning his head to stare rebelliously at the camera. The clothes he was wearing fell around his body in what he knew was a complimenting fashion. His shirt was a slightly baggy black tank top that looked like it had once been a t-shirt, but someone had ripped the sleeves off carelessly. It had a large number 26 on the front in a bright red color, making it impossible to miss. His olive green shorts fell to his knees, and had so many pockets that Fran wondered absently if there was a scrap of cloth on it that _wasn't _a pocket. His hair, which normally fell freely around his face, was pulled up into a small ponytail. Instead of making him seem girly, as he had thought it would, it added an air of toughness to Fran that he hadn't known he had. A few strands of green hair and fallen free, and framed his face perfectly. He had two triangle 'tattoos' under his eyes, adding to the punk look he was trying to pull off. He had one converse-clad foot on the edge of a skateboard, tipping it toward him in the classic skateboard pose. His bandaged arm was hanging limply at his side, but Lussuria had assured him it complimented the look he needed.

After a few more flashes from the camera, Fran decided to try something different. He really didn't have any experience with skateboards, but he figured if he fell, he would make it work for the shoot. Allowing the skateboards to level out on the ground, Fran placed his other foot on the other side of the board, and slowly pushed his weight down on one side. Bending his knees for balance, he continued to lift one end of the ground until he was at what he thought was his limit. He then turned his face to the camera with a smug smirk, and he heard the camera flashing wildly.

Another position had him standing, holding the skateboard up by one end with his hand and leaning on it, staring off to the side, not looking directly at the camera. A few more flashes and he heard the photographed announce, "That's a wrap! Good job, Fran." After his complete dissing of the Cervello sisters, they had refused to cooperate with the gig, and walked out. The company had to call in another photographer short notice, and the first person they could get was a blonde named Dino Cavallone. His easygoing smile was able to relax Fran enough that he no longer felt like he was going to puke all over his shoes, and actually get up on the stage. Everything that happened after that blurred together into one long camera flash, and Fran nearly collapsed to the floor in relief in response to Dino's words. The shoot had exhausted him. He somehow managed to get off the stage without hurting himself, barely registering when someone told him he could keep the clothes he was modeling in, shook the correct people's hands and followed Lussuria out the door.

He was proud of himself. He was able to stay awake until he fastened his seatbelt in Lussuria's car. As soon as he heard the engine start, he slipped into blissful unconsciousness.

**A/n: NOOOO, SQUALO…I can't believe I did that. That makes the SECOND person Bel has mauled in two days. . The next chapter won't have blood in it…I think. ^_^" Jeez, the Varia is uber dysfunctional O_O. I feel sorry for Fran. **

**The plot is developing slowly. It will be more interesting from here on out ;) **

**Each review calms Bel down a little, so he doesn't hurt anyone else. *smiles innocently***

**See you next chapter! **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/n: Sorry for the wait, guys! This chapter was hell to write. Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes…**

**Enjoy!**

Bel was staring moodily in the mirror when he heard the door down the hall open and shut. He lifted his head from his arms, listening attentively as the sound of faint footsteps walked past his door and down the stairwell. There had been no one up here but him, since Lussuria had taken the frog to _his_ gig, and the boss was downstairs with Levi and Squalo. Bel frowned and ignored the twinge of guilt he felt about his attack on Squalo. Glancing at the clock that sat on his bedside table, he realized it was actually quite late.

_Lussu and the stupid frog should be back by now…I wonder…_

The sound of the footsteps had long since stopped, but Bel held still for a few seconds just to be sure. After determining that no one was in the hall, the prince snuck out of his room, closing the door behind him with a faint click. He had been right – the hall was empty of all but him. Glancing behind him, Bel frowned at the door at the end of the hall. Levi had been quite lazy when finding a room to stash him in the other night, and had walked all of three feet to the adjacent room and locked him there. Bel snickered and made a mental note to tease Levi about it later.

All the doors that lined the hallway were open, save his own and one other at the other end of the hall. Wondering briefly why he was even doing this, Bel walked quickly over to the door and pressed his ear against the wood. The blonde could only hear the sound of slow, steady breathing, so he held his breath and tried the doorknob.

It twisted easily beneath his hands, allowing him into the room without so much as a squeak. He quietly entered, leaving the door open behind him in case he needed to make a quick getaway. His efforts were pointless, however, since the room's only occupant was fast asleep, and quite unaware of his presence.

The first thing he noticed was the green. It was rather hard to miss, actually, since the whole room swam with it. He almost didn't notice the boy sound asleep in the bed, he blended in so well with the surrounding color. But when he did notice him, Bel froze. The sounds he had heard earlier all snapped into place; Lussuria must have carried the boy up the stairs to his room.

_ The stupid frog fell asleep on the way home? Tch. How pathetic. _

Staring at the sleeping teen, Bel could feel the past days' insanity creeping back into focus. His fault. It was all _his_ fault. The stupid frog was the reason all of this had happened. Bel felt his mouth twist into a grin he was all too familiar with, and the insanity fell across his vision like a red veil. Before he knew it, he was standing right next to the boy's sleeping form, knife in hand. He laughed quietly.

_Shi shi shi…it's all his fault. He made me this way. His fault, his fault, HIS FAULT._

_If I get rid of him, Mammon will come back. He's Mammon's replacement, so if I get rid of him…_

Bel raised his hand, poised to stab the boy in the chest, but the green haired teen shifted in his sleep, exposing his face to the blonde. Bel froze for the second time, stuck in his killing stroke, unable to do anything but stare at the person in front of him. The insanity disappeared as easily as it had come.

_Shi shi…he's…kinda cute…isn't he?_

Fran's face was peaceful in sleep, not guarded or tense as it had been in the short time the prince had seen him. His hair was spread out across the pillow, circling his head like a silky green halo. Bel fought down the urge to reach out and see if it was as soft as it looked. He still had the remains of makeup from the shoot smudged across his cheeks, and his eyes fluttered beneath his lids in rapid little movements. Bel wondered idly what he was dreaming about.

He found out an instant later. Fran screamed suddenly, grasping his injured arm and writhing under the covers, tangling the sheets around himself in panic. Bel threw himself backwards, stumbling on the edge of a carpet and crashing to the floor. He righted himself quickly as Fran screamed again, choked and raw, with tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. The hand gripping his arm tightened, and the teen whimpered quietly, a name slipping through he closed lips.

"B-Bel."

The prince froze in shock, again unable to move as the boy continued to speak his name.

"Bel. Bel, stop, please stop. Please, please stop. It hurts…" He shuddered and gasped, gripping his arm impossibly harder. Bel thought he could see a dark stain spreading across the bandage, but he couldn't be sure. He blinked and stared at the teen's pained expression, listening as he mumbled more desperate pleas. He shivered as realization hit him.

_Me. He's dreaming of me. This is what he was thinking when…_

"I hate you."

The blonde stiffened, and returned his gaze to the teen. His hand was slowly relaxing as he slipped into another dream, one that was hopefully more enjoyable than the first. His face smoothed back into a peaceful non-expression, and he sighed softly.

"I hate you, Bel."

The prince shut the door as quietly as he could on his way out, making sure the boy was sleeping soundly once again before running full speed down the hall and locking himself in his room.

_He hates me. He despises me. _

He felt a tear he didn't remember shedding slide down his cheek. The stupid, emotionless frog, Mammon's replacement, hated _him._

Bel couldn't explain for the life of him why he even cared.

(line break)

Fran woke with a groan. His arm felt like it was being torn in two, and he had a headache to match it. Hissing in pain, the teen struggled into a sitting position, resting his head against the back of the bed and tried to calm the fire in his arm. As he gazed around the room, trying to concentrate on anything but his arm, he couldn't stop a sarcastic smirk from twisting his features.

_Will I ever wake up in the same place I fell asleep? Is that too much to ask?_

The sound of his door opening provided Fran with the distraction he needed, and he focused his attention on the man entering his room. He wasn't surprised to see Lussuria's colorful mohawk bob into the room, but Fran could barely hide the shock when he saw his attacker enter the room, following quietly behind the healer. Other than the crown that had somehow magically reappeared on his head, Fran couldn't find anything familiar in the blonde. Gone was the psychotic killer who had injured Fran's arm and destroyed Squalo's hand. Gone was the frantic man who had run into the kitchen at full speed, desperate to find a way to escape. Fran thought he had understood the blonde, to an extent; evil, sadistic, and heartless. The man standing next to his bed showed none of these qualities.

_He seems…broken. _

For the first time, Fran thought he could understand the pain Bel was feeling over Mammon's betrayal. When he was running around mauling people, he was hard to sympathize with, but in this state…he seemed so heartbroken that Fran had to force back the sting of tears from his eyes. He blinked and tore his gaze from the blonde, realizing he had been staring, and turned his attention to Lussuria. The man was, of course, exaggerating over his arm.

"Oh, Fran-chan! How horrible! You must have really disturbed it in your sleep to make it bleed like this. A nightmare, maybe?" Fran thought he saw Bel wince, but he ignored it. Lussuria was still moaning. "Oh, I _knew_ I shouldn't have let you do that photo shoot yesterday! Oh, Fran-chan, I'm sorry!" The rainbow man pouted, quivering his lower lip as he readied the supplies to change Fran's bandage. The teen rolled his eyes dramatically, the action somehow escaping the notice of the flamboyant man. Bel, however, snickered quietly under his breath. Fran raised one eyebrow and cast him a glance, but the blonde's expression gave nothing away.

_Stupid fake prince, you can't take my talent, that's not fair…_

Fran made an effort to ignore the blonde for the rest of the time it took for Lussuria to change his bandage. Just as he was finishing up, Fran's stomach growled loudly, causing everyone to freeze. The room was dead silent for a couple of beats, but a peal of borderline insane laughter shattered it completely.

"Shi shi shi~! The stupid frog is hungry! Maybe Lussu should go find him some flies to eat~" He giggled again, a grin spreading across his face as he spoke. Fran didn't know why, but he felt a weight lift of his chest as the blonde laughed. He seemed like he was back to normal now.

_Was I…worried about him? …No, no way. And shit, I guess this means he's back to his murderous personality. _

Lussuria chuckled and practically skipped out of the room, singing something about 'eggs and toast for the cutie~'. Fran shuddered at the awful tune and reached out a hand to grab his sling, which was hanging in its usual place on his bedpost. Before he could reach it, however, another hand shot out and snatched it away from him. Fran returned to his original position and glared at the blonde not-prince, who was dangling the sling just out of reach.

"Shi shi shi…c'mon, frog, jump for it. All dumb frogs can jump, right~? Shi shi~" Gritting his teeth against the numerous curses he wanted to fling at Bel, Fran reached toward his sling, letting a few choice curses slip through when the blonde swung it further away from him.

"You bastard fake prince. Give me my goddamn sling."

The blonde laughed again, swinging the sling back and forth tauntingly. "You heard me, frog. Jump."

So Fran jumped.

He ended up overshooting it, colliding with Bel and sending them both to the floor. His good hand wrapped itself tightly around his sling, brushing briefly over the blonde's fingers in the process. The teen curled in on himself, not even bothering to break his fall, instead concentrating on protecting his arm. Even with his efforts, when the duo hit the ground, the pain that lanced up Fran's arm caused him to grind his teeth together against a scream. He heard something hiss from underneath him, and the boy realized he had landed quite forcefully on the blonde not-prince. He held perfectly still, hoping the blonde wouldn't attack him for his closeness. He would get off, but his good arm was pinned under him, and even a small movement caused his bad arm to flare with pain.

Both models lay on the ground for an ever increasing amount of time, each steadying their breathing and accounting for any injuries. After what seemed like forever, Bel spoke.

"Oi. Dumb frog. Get off."

Fran tried again to move, but immediately stopped due to the pain.

"…I can't. It hurts too much."

Bel tch-ed and began to wriggle underneath the boy. Fran tried to force away the blush that was forming on his cheeks and failed miserably. Bel's movements made the amount of body contact the two of them shared all too evident, and Fran ducked his head, cursing the man silently between clenched teeth. _Damn fake prince. Don't notice, don't notice._

Bel finally escaped from under the green haired teen, and leapt to his feet instantly. He was at the door before Fran could take a breath to stop him, and he turned to face the fallen boy.

"If you beg me, I'll help you get up."

Fran hissed and lifted his head to glare at the smirking man. "Shut the hell up. I can do it myself. Beg, my _ass._" The blonde chuckled quietly, leaning against the doorframe lazily.

"Shi shi shi…I'd love to…but princes don't beg." Fran froze at the obvious innuendo in the blonde's voice, gritting his teeth and ignoring the insane laughter that followed. If he wasn't careful, the annoying laughter would drive him as insane as the blonde. Fran took a deep breath and struggled to right himself without doing something that caused him to scream in pain. It proved to be quite difficult, and by the time the teen had freed his good arm from under his body, he was already worn out. When he tried to push himself up using just the one arm, he only fell immediately back to the ground in an ungraceful heap. Cursing eloquently by this point, he used the remaining strength in his arm to roll himself onto his back.

_Okay. Now what._

He tried flexing his shoulders to throw himself into a sitting position, but the movement further pained his injury, so he decided against it. It took a good five minutes for him to admit he needed assistance, and when he finally did, he wasn't pleased. He glanced over to the side, both relieved and annoyed to see that the blonde was still leaning against the doorjamb, observing him with interest. Sighing in defeat, Fran blinked twice before staring dejectedly up at the ceiling.

"Bel, please help me."

He refused to look at the blonde, but he could hear his footsteps as he approached. Fran closed his eyes to wait for his reply. After a few seconds passed without an answer, the teen opened his eyes and jerked in surprise. Bel had fallen to his hands and knees over him, one hand on each side of the teen's head, and one knee on either side of his waist. His blonde locks were brushing against the skin of Fran's forehead, a giant grin dominating the lower half of his face. As he shifted slightly, Fran caught a brief flash of color underneath the blonde mass of hair, but it was too quick a glimpse to actually see Bel's eyes. Fran couldn't even say what color he had seen, but the blonde's strange laugh brought him back to the problem at hand.

"Shi shi shi…whatcha thinkin' about, dumb frog?" Bel lowered his face impossibly closer, so that Fran could practically feel the smirk on his lips. The teen blushed and turned his head away, forcing his voice to stay steady.

"Nothing, stupid fake prince. I thought you were going to help me up, not push me into the floor. Idiot." The blonde laughed.

"I am going to help you up, stupid frog. Shi shi~ A prince doesn't break his promises. But, you didn't beg." Fran whipped his head back to glare at the blonde, forgetting how close their faces were. The teen froze as the tips of their noses brushed against each other, and had to again fight down a blush.

"I did beg, fake prince. I said 'help me please'. You won't get any more than that for your sick fetish." The only response he got was a peal of laughter. Fran gritted his teeth as the blonde continued to laugh, bringing his good hand up to Bel's mouth and pushing against it, trying to silence him. It worked, to his surprise; the blonde stopped laughing immediately and seemed to glare at the teen on the floor, although since his eyes were hidden, it was hard to tell. The silence only lasted an instant, however, and was broken by Fran's surprised cry. Something warm and wet flicked across the palm of his hand, causing the teen to jerk it away in reflex. Before he could do anything else, Bel had the hand pinned to the floor once more, trapping Fran totally and efficiently.

Fran was too surprised to register the position he was in. "You…you licked my hand!" He forgot to mask his emotion, so his surprise was evident in his expression and his words. Bel cocked his head to the side, seemingly interested in the show of emotion, and didn't say a word. Fran realized his mistake instantly, and with a quick curse he masked his emotions once more.

Bel frowned. "Why do you do that?"

Fran shrugged and looked away, mumbling under his breath. "Why would I tell you, you stupid, psychotic, rapist fake prince. Now get off." Fran refused to look at him, so the blonde sighed and shifted slightly, getting ready to stand up.

"I told you, frog. Beg me. Use the right name." Fran raised his eyebrow, still not looking at Bel. The blonde laughed, explaining.

"You said I was in charge of you, so that means I'm your senpai. Use the right name, dumb frog, and I'll get off and help you up." Fran scowled inwardly. _All this for one action? What was wrong with this man? _But instead of voicing his thoughts, he rolled his eyes and complied.

"Bel-senpai, please help me up now. And get off while you're at it." Bel laughed and stood up, offering the teen a hand up, which Fran took gratefully. Once he was standing on his own, Bel turned on a heel and ran out of the room, just as Lussuria yelled from downstairs, "Breakfast is ready~!" Bel paused in the hallway, casting a comment over his shoulder at the boy still in the room.

"If I beat you to breakfast, I'm eating your toast, un-cute kohai. Shi shi shi~!"

Fran exited his room with a low curse, wondering silently if he didn't like the evil, psychotic Bel better than this strange edition.

(Line break)

Bel raced down the stairs, taking three at a time and stumbling over the last one, nearly falling on his face. Pausing for an instant to turn back to the staircase and kick the bottom stair in retribution, he walked calmly into the kitchen, where Lussuria was making the finishing touches to their breakfast; toast and eggs. Bel snickered as he grabbed the two pieces of toast off of the plate across him and plopped them on his own, which now held four pieces. Giggling quietly, he pushed his chair away from the table and propped his bare feet on the table, tipping his chair back onto its two back legs and balancing precariously.

That was the position Fran found him in when he trudged into the room, saddened, but not surprised to see, that his toast was currently residing on Bel's plate. Choosing not to pick a fight, he nodded to Lussuria in thanks and sat down to start eating. He was just about to lift a forkful of scrambled eggs to his mouth when he realized Bel was staring at him. How he could tell behind those blonde bangs, Fran didn't know, but he closed his mouth and placed his fork on his plate.

"What, fake prince."

A knife embedded itself in the wood right next to his good hand, and Fran forced himself not to flinch. He continued to stare back at the blonde with disinterest, taking silent delight in the scowl on the man's face.

"The prince is not fake, stupid frog."

Fran snorted loudly, picking up his fork of eggs again. "If you're not fake, then I'm not a frog. How d'you like them apples, senpai?" Another knife quickly joined the first, quivering ominously next to his plate. Fran stared at the piece of metal for a while before setting his eggs down yet again and yanking the knives out of the wood. He studied it closely, admitting silently that it was quite a beautiful knife.

Then he bent them both in half and threw them across the table at the stunned blonde.

"Don't throw things, senpai. Someone could get hurt." Fran finally was able to eat a mouthful of eggs during the span of stunned silence exuding from the blonde. He looked up at the sound of three more knives sticking into the table, each one closer to his hand than the last. Without missing a beat, Fran tore them from the wood and bent them as well, tossing them to join the now decent sized pile in front of the blonde.

The next knife found its way into the flesh of his hand.

Fran hissed under his breath, yanking the knife out and inspecting his wound. Surprisingly, it wasn't bleeding much; the knife hadn't stabbed him too deeply, and the result was just a shallow cut.

_Nothing a band-aid won't handle. _Fran thought as he covered the wound with his napkin to keep blood from dripping onto his breakfast. He paused in his ministrations for a second to break the knife that had hurt him and tossed it in the pile with the rest.

"Really, Bel-senpai, have you learned yet? Don't throw things at me, or I'll break them. It's really quite simple, actually. If you're as smart as they say you are, you should be able to figure it out."

A grin slowly spread across Bel's face, but there was no mirth in it. He giggled insanely, leaning across the table to get in the teen's face. "Oi…frog. You wanna die?" Fran blinked, leaning away slightly. The blonde's breath wafted over his face, smelling faintly of chocolate, and Fran did everything he could not to blush at the man's closeness. Trying to remember what Bel had asked him, Fran's mind scrambled for an answer; anything to make the blonde back off.

"Ah…no, actually, dying isn't very high on my priority list. I'm liking life quite a lot; it seems like I get stabbed every single day and I'm working with a bunch of whackos…nope, don't wanna die, I assure you." Bel was silent for a good minute after Fran's outburst, shifting his head slightly to the side to size up the teen in front of him. The boy was staring at his plate of food, no evident expression on his face excep the faint dustings of a blush covering his cheeks. Bel's grin widened a bit into an expression of actual mirth.

_Shi shi shi…well well, the frog's affected by the prince. Shi shi~ how fun._

Instead of backing off as Fran had thought he would, Bel leaned forward more, enjoying the teen's obvious discomfort. He was about to say something when Lussuria cleared his throat loudly, making both boys jump a mile in their seats. Bel sat back in his chair forcefully, a pout adorning his face. Fran took a deep breath, shooting Lussuria a thankful glance before eating quietly. The room was awkwardly silent as Bel continued to observe Fran from a more conventional distance. He smirked at the teen's disorganized apparel and voiced his opinion.

"Shi shi…did the stupid frog forget to take his makeup off this morning? Your face is a mess~" Fran's hands instantly flew to his face, smudging the dried makeup even more than it already had. With a flash of chagrin, Fran realized he was still wearing the outfit he had modeled in the day before, the clothes rumpled and creased, and in some places stained with blood and makeup. Fran sighed quietly, pushing back from the table to go get changed, but he stopped at the door. He whirled around and spoke only to Lussuria, ignoring the snickering blonde.

"Ah, Lussuria? Could I borrow some clothes? I only have the set I arrived here in and this one, and they're both stained with blood. And as resourceful as I am, I am not wearing bloodstained clothes. I'll leave that to the fake prince to do." Still ignoring the now scowling blonde, Fran listened intently to Lussuria as he dramatically slapped his forehead and spoke.

"Fran-chan~! But of course! Of course, you're so slim that I doubt you'd fit into any of our clothes…OH!" He seemed to have an epiphany, for the man stood up and skipped over to the wary teen. Holding Fran by the shoulders, Lussuria continued to speak as if he were across the room still, causing Fran to wince at the volume.

"You can wear Mammon's clothes! He left quite a few, and you're about his size. Sure, you're a few inches taller, but those clothes were big on Mammon anyway. Here, let me show you to his room and you can pick –"

Lussuria was interrupted by a knife whizzing by his head, embedding itself in the wall next to Fran's ear, taking a few stands of dark green hair with it. Fran glared at the blonde, who was standing and shaking, his eyes downcast and his fists clenched.

"No one goes in Mammon's room but me, you filthy peasants. The dumb frog doesn't deserve to wear his clothes anyway." Lussuria seemed shocked, but he quickly regained his composure. "But Bel-chan, Fran needs something to wear, and all of our clothes are too big~! Mammon's clothes are the only ones that will fit!" Bel was silent, still staring into the wood of the table as if it were the most interesting thing he had ever seen. After what seemed like eternity, he looked up once more.

"Fine. But I take the stupid frog down to Mammon's room. Not you, peasant. And if he touches anything, he dies." Without another room, Bel strode out of the room, fists still clenched at his sides.

After a few beats of silence, Fran shrugged out Lussuria's grip. "You sure he's not on his period? He has some awful mood swings." Lussuria's laughter followed him out into the hallway as the teen tried to keep up with the angry mass of blonde hair in front of him. Bel was practically running through the halls, having obviously made this trek multiple times before, but for Fran, who only knew where three rooms in the mansion were located, it was a crazy maze of twists and turns. Finally, after going down three separate staircases and making countless turns, Bel stopped in front of a dark cherry door, silently turning the knob and entering the pitch black room. Fran paused at the open doorway, wondering if he should enter or not, but Bel's voice made the decision for him.

"Come in." His voice was dejected, distant, and Fran felt a deep sadness roll over his heart at the sound of it. He shook he head roughly from side to side and the feeling broke. He walked quickly into the room just as Bel switched on the lights. Fran stood silently as he slowly took in the room around him.

Everything that wasn't wood was a deep purple or black; it seemed that most rooms in this mansion were color-coded. The bed in the middle was completely round and surprisingly large for someone who was allegedly so tiny. All of the furniture was the same dark cherry color as the door, and the handles were a shimmery gold. Tons of items lined the walls, varying from large coin collections to photos of different groups of people. On one wall, there was a large picture of Bel and someone who Fran figured was Mammon himself; it seemed like they were posing for a photo shoot, and even though Fran was new to the business, the purple haired boy's beauty was evident even to him. Joining the photo on the wall was another picture, this time of Mammon and six other people, all smiling and laughing in front of what looked like a high school. One of the boys in the picture, a blonde kid dressed in military uniform, had one arm around Mammon's shoulders, making a peace sign to the camera with his other hand. He had a pair of piercing blue eyes that seemed alight with laughter. Mammon was smiling too, his own lavender eyes shining with happiness and something else, something more subtle. Fran thought he had almost figured it out when Bel cleared his throat impatiently, causing Fran's concentration to break as he turned to face the blonde. He was sitting on the edge of the circular bed, staring sullenly at the carpeted floor. He gestured to a walk in closet behind him, not even bothering to look where he was pointing. "Get some clothes out of there, then get out."

Normally, Fran would have had some witty quip to announce to the blonde as a parting jab, but something in the way Bel was staring at the floor, almost as if he weren't even seeing it, made Fran hold his sharp tongue. He walked silently to the closet and threw open the doors. Mammon had either done a ton of modeling or had loads of cash on him, because the closet was stuffed to bursting will clothes of every fashion. Thankfully, everything was sorted by clothing type, so it was simple for Fran to pick out a certain number of pairs of pants and shirts. After ten minutes of browsing, Fran emerged from the closet carrying two pairs of skinny jeans, one pair of blue jeans, and three shirts; one black with light green stripes, one a simple navy blue, and the last a deep red that hung off one shoulder. He had changed clothes while in the closet - which was made difficult because of his sling, but he had managed - and was wearing a pair of jeans that closely resembled those in the photo of Mammon and Bel, a white tee with black starbursts on it, and a black cap that he wore tilted to the side, something he noticed was also in the picture of the two models. He had also picked up a couple pairs of underwear, but hid them underneath the pile of clothes he was carrying. No need for Bel to see _everything _he had chosen.

The blonde had moved from his position before; he was now standing in front of the picture of Mammon and the blonde boy, a scowl adorning his features. He was passing a knife between his fingers, seemingly contemplating sticking it in between the blonde boy's eyes. Fran silently placed his pile of clothes on the bed and padded over to Bel, standing beside him stoically, staring at the photo with him.

"He looks like he's having fun, doesn't he."

Bel made a resigned noise in the back of his throat and nodded. "Yeah…Mammon always had fun with Colonello. They were best friends in high school. Actually they all were." He gestured to the rest of the smiling bunch. "The Arcobaleno. It's little wonder that Mammon…that he…" Bel trailed off, letting his hand fall back to his side and stared silently at the photo again. Fran felt a familiar pull at his heart, not even trying to push it away this time, and he unthinkingly placed a hand on Bel's shoulder. The blonde turned to him in surprise, taking in his appearance for the first time.

"Shi shi…you look so much like him. It's scary." Bel looked Fran up and down, taking in his outfit with appraising eyes. Apparently liking what he saw, he smirked and flipped the hat off of the green haired teen's head. It landed somewhere behind him, but Fran was to shocked at the subtle display of affection to care.

"What's with you?"

Bel blinked in confusion. "Shi shi…what?"

Fran forged on ahead. "Not three days ago, you tried to kill me. Then the next day you tried to kill Squalo. Then you were stabbing me at breakfast, but not trying to hurt me. And now, you're standing here talking to me as if I'm an old friend. What's with you? Can't you pick one personality and stick with it? Is that too much to ask? If you want to kill me, then kill me. If you want to be kind, then be kind. But don't switch in between the two! It's confusion as all hell, and I don't know what to do around you!" Fran was panting at the end of his outburst, his face wearing a indignant expression. Bel lifted on hand and gently poked the confused furrow in the teen's brow, smoothing it out before speaking.

"Shi shi…you talk to me about a personality disorder, but you don't show your emotion to anyone? Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black? You're as much of a liar as I am about what I feel. Don't lecture me." His face was serious, but his finger still trailed along his forehead, lazily, as if the man was deep in thought and not even realizing what he was doing. Fran took a shaky breath.

"Lying? How are you lying?"

Bel froze and removed his finger, turning around and sprawling out on the bed. He pushed Fran's pile of clothes to the floor with a snicker and faced the teen.

"Not telling~ By the way, nice show of emotion back there. The prince appreciated it. Shi shi shi~" Fran turned to glare at the wall, settling his emotionless mask back into place, his thoughts a frantic swirl of confusion.

_What is it about this man that makes me…feel so much? I hate him…and yet…_

His mask back in place, Fran stooped to pick up the hat on the floor, but Bel's voice stopped him.

"Not yet, frog. I'll give it to you soon. I have to fix it first."

Fran cast the blonde a glance, and straightened up. The hat looked perfectly fine to him, but he figured he wouldn't push Bel's good mood too far today. He shrugged, gathering up the clothes Bel had so unceremoniously dumped on the floor and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. Bel made sure the sound of footsteps had long faded before he held his head in his hands and laughed softly.

"Shi shi…what are you doing, huh? He's nothing like Mammon. What are you doing, Bel? You're a prince, not a frog or a peasant. Shi shi…shi…"

Mammon had left his room untouched when he left, all the more indicator that he wanted to forget all about the Varia and his time with them. Bel had known from the beginning that Mammon was just using him as a stepping stone to get to where he wanted to go; the Arcobaleno, and the raised pay they offered, and yet he couldn't stop himself from befriending the kid. And now he was gone, and Bel was so listless he was more violent than he had ever been. Bel glared sullenly at the photo of Mammon and Colonello one last time before hurling five knives at it, destroying the paper beyond recognition, making sure most of the knives landed on Colonello's face.

If there was one thing he and Mammon had in common, it was the knowledge of the pain of unrequited love.

(line break)

Fran had finished lunch early, so he trudged back to his room and flopped down on the bed with a sigh. Bel hadn't shown up to lunch, and when Fran had been sent to go check on him, he had been told off so harshly he wondered if he had imagined the whole morning. He rolled over, staring moodily at the wall, trying his damnedest to figure out the blonde's dangerous mood swings when he caught sight of the hat he had picked out this morning. There was a note attached to it, which fell onto the teen's lap when he picked it up. Fran read it quickly, fingering design on the hat with his thumb.

_Dumb frog;_

_I fixed the hat. It's perfect for a stupid frog like you now. Shi shi shi~! Don't take it off, or I'll be offended, and will have to kill you~_

_P.S.: Don't ever break my knives again or I'll kill you. _

_ Bel_

Fran tossed the not to the floor and inspected the hat. He immediately saw what the blonde had done to it and hissed under his breath.

He had removed the skull design from the hat and replaced it with one of a frog. It was a cutesy anime-esque frog, with big black eyes and light green in color. Fran threw the hat behind him and flopped down on the bed, vowing never to wear the hat again.

However, after a minute or so of staring at the ceiling, Fran realized that Bel had actually taken time out of his day to make it for him. Granted, it was supposed to be a stupid prank, not a gesture of kindness, but the fact remained that the blonde had taken _Mammon's hat_ and changed it for him to wear.

When Fran exited the room a few minutes later, he was wearing the black cap tilted to the side, as he had seen Mammon do in photo, and started to make his way downstairs. He figured now that he had some free time, he would explore the rest of the mansion. His plans were destroyed, however, when Lussuria came barreling up the stairs with a huge grin on his face. Fran raised one eyebrow, waiting for the other man to start conversation. Lussuria was practically skipping with joy.

"Squ-chan's awake! He finally woke up~! I should tell Bel, he doesn't have to worry about the boss killing him anymore~!" With that, he ran up the rest of the stairs and pounded on the blonde's door. Fran decided to lean against the bannister and wait for the others before heading over to see the second victim of Bel's rampage, wondering absently how the man had reacted to the news that he no longer had his left hand. Fran shuddered at the thought and waited patiently at the foot of the stairs, both looking forward to and dreading seeing Squalo's face.

**A/n: Well, there it is. Chapter 4 is finished. *faints* Dunno why that one was so hard to write…maybe Bel's mood swings are getting to me…**

**Anyway, I think I've just created a crack pairing…Mammon x Colonello? Where do I come up with this stuff…anyway, I hope you liked this chappie, I'll work on being more regular with my updates. **

**Bye bii~! **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/n: Okay wow. I'm the worst person ever. *dodges rotten tomatoes* Yes, yes, I know, I'm SOOO late with this update. In my defense, I was working a Shakespeare production until now, so I was truly busy. ^_^" Still no excuse, I meant to have this written weeks ago. So at any rate, my deepest apologies. Please enjoy this extremely late and relatively interesting installment of my story. See you at the end! ;)**

Squalo was glaring at the wall opposite him, which was completely bare of anything that could possibly offend the man, yet he seemed to dislike the white wall with a burning passion. He blinked, and the wall started to swim in front of his eyes again, causing his scowl to deepen.

"VRAIIITT! FUCKING WALL, STAY IN ONE PLACE DAMMIT!" The shouting caused his vision to blur heavily and his head to pound painfully. Wincing and bringing the hand that wasn't in a sling up to his forehead, he made a mental note to speak to Lussuria about the amount of painkillers he was receiving. He was beginning to think that man had been a little too heavy handed with the drugs.

The man sitting next to his bed shifted slightly in his seat, and Squalo turned his head to glare at him instead. His glare was met with another pair of angry eyes, but it didn't stop him from starting to yell again.

"VRAIT! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?"

Xanxus arched an eyebrow and shrugged, smirking at Squalo's angered expression. The other man growled loudly and turned away, returning to his previous pastime of glaring at the wall in front of him. Xanxus observed him for a few seconds more before smirking again and leaning in closer.

"Hey trash. You're pouting."

Squalo's eyes widened and he whipped his head around, his headache apparently forgotten, and started objecting Xanxus' statement.

'VRAIT! I AM THE FUCK NOT!"

Xanxus chuckled and leaned in even closer. Squalo sputtered over his last few words and leaned away, the beginnings of blush dusting over his cheeks. He kept his eyes downcast as he felt Xanxus' breath wash over his ear as he whispered "Yes, you are." He looked up and glared, pretending not to notice that the other man's face was only a few inches away, trying to ignore the fact he had shivered violently when he felt Xanxus' breath ghosting across his skin. He blinked rapidly, trying to remember his argument.

"Vrait..I don't pout. Girl's pout. Lussuria pouts. I'm a man, men don't pout."

Another smirk.

"You sure about that, trash?"

Squalo shot and irritated look at Xanxus, but before he could respond, he realized that he was hurting. His hand was practically burning with pain. With a harsh cry of surprise, he flung himself onto his back, writhing on the sheets and grasping at the empty space below his wrist. He paused for a few seconds in confusion, the pain he was still experiencing subsiding to a dull ache in the wake of his shock, but an instant later, his memories of what had happened came rushing back, and he couldn't stop the flow of tears that streamed down his cheeks.

The fucker had cut off his hand.

He held his wrist tightly, turning on his side to face away from his silent companion and crying silently into his pillow. He didn't want Xanxus to see him like this, completely broken, hurting, and _crying _to top it all off. It didn't matter that he was in incredible pain. It didn't matter that he had just lost his hand. He didn't want to seem weak in front of the other man, he didn't need any other fuel for the constant 'girl' jokes that Squalo received on a daily basis.

He heard a low curse from beside him, and stiffened in surprise as a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist. He heard the whispering voice at his ear again, but this time it was more urgent than playful.

"Trash. Turn around."

Squalo shook his head almost unnoticeably, causing the other man to grab a handful of his silver locks. Surprisingly, the hold wasn't painful, but made him pay attention to Xanxus all the same.

"Trash. You are never going to hear me repeat what I'm about to say, so don't ask me. You have seen me at my worst moments. The least you could do is let me help you when you're in pain and hold you when you cry."

Squalo blinked in surprise, something that Xanxus didn't see. Who was this man next to him? He was certainly too kind to be Xanxus…

"Also, if you don't turn around now, I'll shoot you in the fucking face."

_There we go. Back to normal. _

Squalo sighed quietly and shifted his body around to face the other man, who was lying on the bed next to him. If he didn't know better, he would have said that Xanxus' face was etched with worry, and his eyes were filled with the want to take care of him. But he knew better, and by the time he had blinked again, Xanxus' expression was back to his angry normalcy.

"Lussuria told me to distract you, so I tried. Guess it didn't work."

_Lussuria did? …That fucking rainbow, I'll strangle him…_

He was going to voice his opinion on Lussuria's order, but something in Xanxus' expression made the words freeze in his throat. The strange caring look was back in his eyes, and as he silently reached across Squalo's torso to grab his wrist gently, Squalo felt his heart begin to beat strangely in his chest.

_…the fuck?_

Neither man said anything as Xanxus lifted Squalo's wrist to his lips, lightly pressing his lips against the bandages wrapped around what once was the other man's hand. The touch caused Squalo to gasp quietly, the feeling of shock traveling from his wrist and shivering down his spine, tingling along the entirety of his body. He closed his eyes tightly as Xanxus moved his lips closer to his injury, a small amount of salty liquid forcing itself out of the corner of his eyes and dripping down his already wet cheeks. He whimpered quietly as Xanxus removed his lips, both in pain and desire that suddenly washed over him. He opened his light grey eyes to see the black haired man staring at him with a guarded expression, his face only a few inches from his own. Squalo bit his lip against a scream as pain flared in his wrist, gripping the bed sheets tightly with his good hand. He started to close his eyes once more, but a touch against his tearstained cheek stopped him. Grey eyes met red ones as Xanxus leaned in slowly, moving a few silver strands out of his way before gently kissing the man beneath him.

Squalo's eyes drifted shut as he lifted his good hand to tangle his lover's hair, tilting his face to lean into the kiss. He felt Xanxus smirk as he deepened the kiss, separating Squalo's lips with his tongue and dipping inside, playing with the tips of his teeth and nudging the other man's tongue, trying to get it to join in the game. Squalo shivered before responding, pulling Xanxus closer and pushing both of their tongues into Xanxus' mouth, a smirk of his own playing across his lips. Xanxus hummed quietly in surprise as Squalo's tongue forced itself past his lips, darting across every inch of his mouth. He lifted his hand from Squalo's cheek and wove his fingers in his long silver hair, tilting his head back to try and regain dominance.

Before either could go further in the battle, the sound of someone clearing their throat loudly caused the both of them to freeze in their actions and look toward the door. Lussuria was standing there with a shit eating grin on his face, leaning against the door frame in a causal manner. Fran was looking everywhere but at the two people in front of him, a very noticeable blush covering his cheeks. Bel was close behind Fran, observing the younger man with obvious amusement, but the tense set of his shoulders said that he didn't want to be here. Xanxus growled and settled back in his seat next to Squalo's bed, while the man in question blushed lightly and looked away from the rest of the people in the room, suddenly very interested in the white wall across from him once again.

"You know, Xan-chan, when I said 'distract him', that wasn't _exactly_ what I had in mind~" Xanxus chose not to reply to that comment, instead reaching over to grab a bit of Squalo's hair and absently rolling it between his fingers. Lussuria chuckled as he fully entered the room, moving to the other side of Squalo's bed to begin checking his injury and giving him the proper medication.

Bel and Fran continued to stand awkwardly in the doorway, the fierce blush still evident on Fran's face. Bel chuckled quietly, reaching over to tap him on the shoulder before a flash of déjà vu swept over him.

"_Shi shi shi…why is Mammon blushing?"_

_The teen turned away from Bel in a huff of annoyance, the blush still evident on his pale cheeks. He was dressed in unfamiliar clothes, meaning he had come directly from a shoot. His hair was pulled back into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck, making it impossible for him to hide his growing blush from the blonde. He hastily reached back and removed the tie, his purple hair falling in a silky curtain around his face. _

_Bel moved closer to the teen, tapping him on the shoulder obnoxiously. _

"_Well, Mammon? Why so flustered? The prince wants to know~ Shi shi shi."_

_Mammon shrugged away from Bel and walked over to a photo on the wall of his room, staring at it as he tried to force the redness from his cheeks. _

"_I'm not flustered, Bel. Go away."_

_Bel frowned, walking toward the boy once again, but his sharp voice cut him off. _

"_Bel! Go away! I don't want to deal with your stupid antics right now!"_

_Bel froze in the spot he was standing, unbelieving of what he had just heard. Mammon tuned to glare hatefully at him over his shoulder, his beautiful lips twisting into a sneer. _

"_This has nothing to do with you. Leave me now."_

_He practically shoved Bel out the door and slammed it in his face. _

_The blonde stayed rooted in place for what seemed like hours before he could make himself move. Just as he was about to walk away, he heard a muffled sob coming from behind the door. He lifted his hand to knock, but Mammon's voice caused him to freeze. _

"_Colonello…pick up your goddamn phone…"_

_Silence from the other side of the door led Bel to believe that Colonello hadn't picked up, and he was proven right by the sound of Mammon's voice once again. _

"_Hey 'Nello, it's me, Mammon. Just wanted to say that today was really fun, I had a great time. I was wondering if you and the guys wanted to hang out sometime this week. Ah, Lal can come too, if she wants. You said you had something to tell me, so I figured…yeah, anyway, call me back. Bye."_

_He had put up a cheerful front, but the instant he hung up, Mammon burst into another round of sobs. _

"_Why. Why won't you notice me?"_

_Bel scowled and slinked away, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets._

_Why. Why won't you notice me?_

Bel pulled his hand back and stuffed it in the pocket of his pants. He looked away from the blushing teen in front of him and glared resentfully at the floor, barely acknowledging the conversation occurring around him.

_Mammon…never loved me. Why can't I just forget him?_

The sound of someone saying his name made him look up in slight surprise, only to come face to face with the one person he didn't want to look at right now. Fran was standing in front of him, the remains of a blush finally fading from his cheeks, now that his back was turned on Xanxus and Squalo. His face was void of emotion, as usual, but something in his voice caused Bel to shift uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Bel-senpai, are you sick? If the sight of kissing bothers you that much, you can leave."

Bel stared at him incredulously. The teen had been the one blushing like a fiend, and he was telling _him_ it was okay to leave? _What the hell is wrong with this kid? _After a few seconds of staring at Fran, Bel realized what was going on. Fran was trying to find an easy way out of the situation. He put up a brave front, but the slight sickly tinge to his skin made Bel believe that the sight of Squalo's injury was making him ill. That and the uneasiness of walking in on the two men making out was enough to make him uncomfortable.

Bel didn't know why he did it, really. He was fairly certain he hated this kid. But instead of laughing and pushing him away, he nodded in understanding and draped an arm loosely over his shoulders, steering him out of the room at a fast pace. Maybe it was the fact he looked so much like Mammon. Maybe he just wanted out of the room himself. But for whatever reason, Bel found himself walking the teen back up to his room and shutting the door quietly behind them. He turned to see Fran gazing around in silence, taking in his new surroundings.

Bel's room was red and black, going right along with the color coding idea. Staring morbidly at the red carpet, it crossed Fran's mind that it would be quite simple to hide a few bloodstains in this carpet. It was the exact same color as blood. Fran shivered and tried to concentrate on something else.

With a jolt, Fran realized what kind of position he was in. Here he was, in the room of the man who tried to kill him, with his back turned away from the closed door. He whirled around quickly, only to stumble and fall to the floor, his injured arm protesting loudly as he banged it on his way down. Hissing quietly, he struggled to right himself with the same amount of difficulty he had that morning. Even though his arm wasn't hurting as much, it was still impossible for him to get up on his own.

Deciding not to mince words this time, Fran sighed and glanced at Bel, who was crouching about a foot away with an amused smirk on his face.

"Shi shi shi…did the frog fall down again?"

Fran chose not to answer him, merely staring blankly at the blonde, twitching his eyebrow into an arch shape and waiting patiently. Much to his chagrin, Bel simply sat back on his heels and ran his fingers across the carpet, giggling quietly and staring right back at the teen.

"Does the frog want something from the prince? Shi shi shi…you know what to do, then."

Fran swallowed a sigh and opened his mouth to plead for the blonde's help, but before he could voice the words, his lips were covered by a long, slim hand. The teen froze at the touch and closed his lips tightly, not knowing what the man had in store, and secretly not willing to find out. He closed his eyes and willed the blonde to just help him up and leave him alone.

"Froggy."

Briefly, the confusion at the name 'Froggy' showed on Fran's face, but the blonde's face was suddenly an inch from his own, and all thoughts flew away from him. As the last time they had been in this situation, Fran was piercingly aware of every inch of skin the not-prince was touching. His cheeks, which had managed to get rid of the embarrassing red color, flushed crimson again, and his lips, which were still hidden by the blonde's hand, parted slightly in a silent gasp. Bel's face had lost all of its teasing nature, and he looked seriously down at the teen beneath him. Fran realized with a jolt of surprise that, even in this position, Bel no longer scared him. He was no longer the psychotic man who tried to kill him in the club. He was simply lonely, and rather misunderstood. Fran let out a soft sigh of relief, his eyes softening a touch and the start of a smile pulling at his lips.

_Wait a second. I'm supposed to hate this man. I DO hate this man. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate – _

"Why were you so weird before?"

Fran blinked as the hand was lifted from his mouth and Bel shifted back slightly. The blonde was still on top of him, but hovering just above any skin contact, which, Fran decided absently, was altogether more tortuous than having the man actually touching him. Trying and failing to force down yet another blush, he turned his head to the side and struggled to keep his voice monotonous.

"Ehh? What do you mean, fake-prince senpai?"

The distinct touch of metal at his throat was expected, but it still made the younger male jump slightly. His movement caused the blade to slice across his skin, a few beads of blood collecting on the surface of the cut. Bel jerked his hand back in surprise, staring strangely at the drops of redness. Before Fran could formulate a retort, the blonde was leaning over him again, hands on either side of his shoulders and holding his entire body up over the length of Fran's. The teen managed to finally keep the blush down at the blonde's extremely close proximity, but he wasn't prepared for Bel to lean his face ever closer to the incision on his neck. Fran shivered as Bel's warm breath ghosted across his skin; he tried to turn his head to face the other man, but his face may as well have been glued to the ground with the amount of space he had to move it.

Then suddenly there was no space between him and Bel.

The blonde had been quivering slightly, like a tight bowstring just ready to snap, and snap he did. His arms gave out and he fell directly onto the male beneath him. As he fell, he grabbed Fran's good wrist with his hand and pinned it over the teen's head, effectively stopping any escape plans the boy would have made. As it were, Fran's mind was completely blank due to Bel's closeness, and could barely keep his emotions at bay. Bel's new position allowed him better access to the incision on Fran's neck, and he smiled slightly. He blew on the cut, feeling the boy's shiver travel through his entire body, eliciting a shiver of his own.

A hidden part of his conscious told him to wait, to get his question answered before he lost control. It was a small part, and Bel very nearly ignored it, but a quick glance at Fran's blushing, embarrassed face made him freeze and oblige to reason.

"Why were you blushing so much before? They were just kissing, dumb frog."

The teen stiffened beneath him, and worked the muscles in his jaw to try and keep himself from blushing again. He waited until he was sure he was in complete control of his face before answering.

"I know that, fake prince. I was just surprised, that's all. Now get off."

Bel made a disbelieving snort in the back of his throat, and Fran glared at him out of the corner of his eye. The blonde's grip on his wrist tightened, and he moved his lips to the green haired teen's ear, smirking.

"Shi shi shi…that's not it, dumb frog. I told you; I can tell when you're lying."

The teen was silent, shifting his head slightly to hide his face behind a curtain of emerald. Bel felt the disconnection, and shifted back in disappointment. He had lost him.

The blonde sat back on his heels and pulled the teen into a sitting position. Both stood without a word, staring at anything but each other. Bel laughed sarcastically under his breath, causing Fran to tense slightly. Instead of attacking as the teen thought he would, Bel just walked past him and bent to pick something up. When he straightened again, he held Fran's hat in his hands. Apparently it had fallen off when he fell to the floor. Fran walked silently over the blonde and took the hat from the other's grip, settling it on his head in a random position.

He stood there for a few seconds, working up his nerve.

"It was a private moment, and I felt terrible and awkward for interrupting it. You could tell they really loved each other." Bel whipped around in surprise, his bangs shifting slightly with his movement. For the second time, Fran saw a flash of color too brief to distinguish behind the golden locks of hair, but his thoughts were forgotten as Bel reached over and grabbed both his shoulders tightly. Fran cast his gaze at his shoes, expressing a rare moment of embarrassment.

"I mean…yeah. I never saw love at my previous job. Everyone was either there to forget love or for a quick, meaningless fuck. No one loved. So I guess…it was the first time I'd seen it, and it caught me off guard. That's really all."

He risked a glance up at Bel and immediately wished he hadn't. The man's face was impossible to read, and his hands simply deadweight on his shoulders. He returned his gaze to the floor, shivering at the cold trickle of blood down his neck. His cut had finally started to actually bleed.

Silence filled the room for a few heartbeats, and then Bel spoke.

"How old are you, Fran."

The teen's head shot up in surprise, once again meeting Bel's gaze with his own. The blonde's face was still blank, guarded, but Fran thought he saw the faintest flickering of…something. His own voice was guarded as he answered.

"Seventeen. My birthday is in a few months…February 26th. Why?"

Bel shifted slightly and moved his gaze from Fran's face to his neck.

"No reason. So, I take it since you never seen love, you've never been kissed, right?"

Fran stiffened and glared at the blonde. "That's none of your damn -"

"So that's a yes, then. Shi shi shi~"

Fran growled and met Bel's gaze straight on; well, he intended to, until he realized where the blonde was currently looking. Another trickle of blood joined the first, causing him to wince and shudder simultaneously. Bel made a faint noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a cross between a moan and a growl. Before he could do anything else, the teen was pushed forcefully onto the bed and pinned with the blonde's weight. In an instant, the atmosphere in the room went from awkward to achingly tense. The blonde's body was flush up against Fran's, and the teen was hyper aware of every inch of skin on his body. His breath was coming in short gasps as Bel leaned his face against his neck. He brushed his lips against the skin there, causing Fran to buck and cry out. Bel made the low growl noise again and gripped Fran's good arm tightly, forcing more of their body into contact.

Bel shuddered slightly and slowly trailed his tongue along the red streaks of blood on the teen's pale skin. Fran's violent shiver set all of his nerves tingling, and he licked the cut again, enjoying the trembling body beneath him. Unable to help himself, he rolled his hips against the younger male's. The gasping moan that Fran made went directly to the blonde's groin, making him repeat the action with a little more force. He leaned over the teen's face, his lips hovering over the other's. "Shi shi shi…never been kissed, ne? …I can…fix that…"

He lost his train of thought, wanting nothing more than to claim every inch of the teen's skin. He settled for claiming his lips.

Bel tried to make the kiss gentle, extremely aware that this was Fran's first ever. It was obvious in the way the teen froze up that he had no idea what to do. Another roll of Bel's hips caused him to gasp and forget the awkwardness, and allowed Bel to sneakily slip his tongue into the unsuspecting teen's mouth.

Fran moaned and scrunched his eyes shut, not sure what to do about the intrusion. When Bel started to explore with his tongue, however, Fran forgot everything. He tangled his good hand in Bel's hair and pulled him closer, reaching into the kiss with as much force as he could muster. He moved his lips clumsily against the more experienced male, but he took Bel's moan as an indicator he was doing something right. Taken by a sudden spurt of boldness, Fran jerked his own hips up to grind against Bel's, as the blonde had done to him.

Bel stiffened in surprise, forgetting to censor the noises coming out of his mouth in pure pleasure and moaning deeply into their joined mouths. He tore their lips apart, only to latch once more onto Fran's cut and lap up the tiny beads of blood forming there again. Fran shuddered and pulled Bel impossibly closer to him, the heat from both their bodies radiating through them both; Fran realized in passing that it wasn't altogether unpleasant to have another person's body heat to warm you. The instant after the thought crossed the teen's mind, his logical thinking returned, and with it, his understanding of what was happening. He stiffened as a reflex, causing Bel to freeze in his actions an look up at the green haired teen. Fran met his gaze and held back a whimper at his expression. Bel had a smear of blood across his lips, almost looking like lipstick, and gleamed mysteriously in the lighting of his room. His clothes were disheveled, his crown lopsided, and his bangs were misplaced, prompting Fran to reach out and push them completely out of the way, and finally see the other man's hidden eyes.

Before he could even touch Bel's face, however, the blonde realized what Fran was doing. With a jolt, he jumped away from the teen and leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the room, panting harshly. He used one hand to quickly rake his hair into place, blatantly ignoring the other person in the room.

The atmosphere slowly dripped into an awkward silence, broken only by the sound of both men's gasps for breath. Eventually even their breaths feel silent as they returned to normal, and the room was filled with the lack of noise. Because of the silence, Fran's tiny sigh, which would have been inaudible any other time, rang through the room as he uttered it. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and walked slowly to where Bel was watching him with a guarded expression.

"Not that I care what the hell you're thinking, but why? Why did you do this to me?"

The blonde showed no proof that he had heard the younger teen, or even understood what he was saying. Fran's face remained emotionless as he tried again.

"Why, you stupid fake prince? I deserve an answer."

Bel remained silent, staring past Fran at nothing in particular, keeping his own features perfectly blank and unemotional. Fran sighed again and turned to face the bed again. His gaze latched onto a framed picture sitting on the bedside table, and his features darkened. He strode over to the frame, picked it up and turned once more to Bel.

"It's because I look like him, isn't it? That's what it is. You're using me, you sick fuck."

This, at least, elicited a reaction from the blonde. Bel stiffened at the accusation, finallly focusing on Fran's blank yet somehow livid face, his guarded expression slipping into something that closely resembled regret.

"I…shi shi…I…no, that's not it…dumb frog. Shi shi…"

Fran's only response was to drop the framed picture to the ground, where it landed safely with a muted thud onto the red carpet. Without another word, the teen walked toward the door with no intention of stopping. He only froze because Bel had grabbed hold of his arm, and turned him around to face him.

"That's not the reason, Froggy. It's not."

Fran looked impassively up at the blonde, his mouth set into a grim line. "Then what is, Bel-senpai? What's your reason?"

Bel opened his mouth to answer, but the words froze in his throat. He couldn't say them. He promised himself he would never say them. Before he could explain his silence to the teen, Fran already had a sarcastic smirk on his face and was backing slowly out the door.

"Well, I guess that answers that. See you around, fake prince-senpai. Oh, by the way; your tiara? I thought those were for princ-_esses_, not princes."

Bel could only watch as Fran turned and walked away from him, letting the door shut softly in his face.

(line break)

It took a few weeks, but Squalo was finally back to normal; or, rather, what was normal for Squalo. Though he had lost his hand, he was still as loud and assertive as ever. Behind his controlling façade, however, he was truly kind to Fran, and showed him his way around the mansion, taught him certain tricks of the modeling trade, and usually kept him from getting tangled up with Bel and his ferocious mood swings. It seemed the silver haired man had forgiven the blonde, but still kept Fran away from him as much as possible. Which Fran wasn't too unhappy about, if he was being honest. After their little spat in Bel's bedroom, there was an awkward atmosphere around them whenever they were in the same room together. Fran remedied it by going out of his way to avoid being together with the blonde as much as possible. And it had been working pretty well so far. The only instances that he couldn't escape Bel were ones like his current situation; a group meeting, called by Lussuria, in the mansions kitchen. Fran made it a point to sit right across from the fake prince, and then to completely ignore him as if he weren't there.

"Is everyone here? Good, then I can start~ Now, as you all know; well, maybe not Fran, but everyone else knows; that every year there's a modeling competition held by the Vongola family. All the major groups are invited to – pardon the pun – strut their stuff and socialize with others at the same time. It's the biggest competition of the year, and we all look forward to it. Now _this_" he held up a plain white piece of paper with a golden flaming X at the top, "is our invitation. Now, our two modeling pairs are going to be the only people entering this year. I unfortunately must help run the whole thing, and we all know Levi's ugly as a demon baby's ass. So, Xanxus and Squalo will be one group and Bel and Fran, the other. We'll be supplied with outfits, but pack a bag anyway because it's a long competition. Last year it lasted for months. Everybody understand?" The whole table was silent, shocked into speechlessness at Lussuria's fast paced tongue. "Oh, and one more thing. The invitation was delayed in the mail, so the competition is tomorrow. We leave in an hour. Get ready~!"

As everyone else flew into action Bel and Fran sat silently, staring at each other across the table.

_I can't believe I have to model with him! _Fran thought. _And it doesn't help that he's – _

_-Completely stupid. Damn Lussuria, why did you do this? I can't model with the frog, he's a disaster on legs. Shi shi shi…I'll order Lussuria later. The prince doesn't work with peasants._

Both men stood at the same time, glared evilly at each other, and left the kitchen through opposite exits. The modeling competition was, Fran had to admit, a little bit exciting. He had only had one other gig since his employment, so the prospect of meeting other models was bth interesting and terrifying to him. The idea of having to work with Bel as a team, on the other hand, was simply terrifying.

_ I suppose Lussuria knows what he's doing, but…I can't work with him. He'll kill me for sure. I'll ask Lussuria about it later. I'm sure he'll change it. _

_ Right?_

**A/n: Ohshit, the modeling groups are coming, the modeling groups are coming! And I hope you enjoyed that XS and BF smexiness. I worked hard on that. Introduction of new characters next chappie "Yaaaaaay" I hope you liked this chapter, and sorry again for the long wait. The next one won't take quite so long…I hope…Bye bii~! **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/n: Okay. The first part of this chapter is my guilty pleasure. I couldn't help it. Don't judge. xD And look! I posted relatively on schedule! I didn't even know I HAD a schedule, so how's THAT for accomplishment?**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own KHR, or any characters associated thereof. I only dream I did….**

**Warnings for this chapter: Violence, gory images, sarcasm, and confessions – you know, Varia stuff. **

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! (and the chapter before that, since I forgot my thank you last time OTL) It makes me happy to hear that you're liking the story! :D**

**By the way, this is the second song playing on the radio ;) (takes out the spaces) http:/ /www. youtube .com /watch?v=-CgnYY9Rwa4 **

**And without further ado…the next chapter, ladies and gentlemen. **

"Hey…trash. Are we there yet?"

It took all the will Squalo had to not to snap at the man currently lounging in the seat next him. He simply exhaled sharply and answered through gritted teeth, "No, Boss, we're not there yet. Another hour and a half, at least. And get your fucking feet off the dashboard! That's not what it's for!" Xanxus simply shot him a lazy glare, crossed his ankles and situated himself more comfortably in his seat, closing his eyes with a slight smirk on his face.

"Don't tell me what to do, trash. Just drive."

Squalo spat out a stream of curses under his breath, but when Xanxus opened one lazy eye to smirk at him, he swallowed his words and concentrated on the road.

_I'm not blushing. Hell no, I'm not blushing. It's just hot in here, that's all…why the fuck am I driving anyway?_

For he was the one driving; it wasn't like no one else knew the way. Everyone knew how to get there. Well, maybe not Fran, but everyone else could get there with their eyes closed. So why was he, the one with the missing hand, the one driving? Even with his fuming mind, Squalo knew the answer immediately. Bel would drive at 100 miles per hour and deliberately run over people's pets, because he was a sick bastard like that. Xanxus would do likewise, but he would run over _people_ and not give a damn. Lussuria would want to stop at every boutique he saw, which none of the rest of the group wanted to live through. Fran didn't have his license _and _didn't know the way, and Levi…well, Levi couldn't do anything.

So Squalo drove, one-handed, while the rest of the vehicle's occupants argued over the other modeling pairs would be.

"That silvered haired man was brilliant last year~ What was his name again? Hoohee? Rhowei?" Lussuria muttered a few more names under his breath before Squalo rolled his eyes and answered for him.

"Vrait, you mean that Ryohei kid? He was awful. You just liked him because he modeled without a shirt on." Lussuria broke down into a series of giggles and hiccups, waving his hand in denial. Very manly. "But anyway, he's not modeling this year. Broke his hand or something." Squalo glared at his own missing appendage and snorted. Wimp.

"Shi shi shi…what about that student council peasant? I have a grudge to settle with him…" Bel whipped out one of his many knives and began twirling it around his fingers. Fran lifted his head from the window slightly to watch him warily. Lussuria turned around in his seat to talk to Bel, who was sitting behind him. "Oh, him~ I heard there was a huge argument between him and Mukuro over who was going to model with little Tsunayoshi. Quite the debate. Furniture was flying everywhere~" He smirked slightly, as if he knew something that no one else did, but only Fran noticed, and the smile was gone almost immediately. "But Tsunayoshi, being the cute little peacemaker he is, said he would model with the both of them as a trio. So the matter was solved~" Squalo snorted again in disbelief, shaking his head from side to side. Knowing the two men, the dispute was far from over. He started to change lanes, turning his head to see if he was clear, and caught sight of Fran leaning against the window in the back. He was seated next to Bel, an arrangement he couldn't have been pleased about, but the lack of emotion on his face gave nothing away.

Turning his gaze back to the road, he cleared his throat before speaking. "Vrait…what about you, Fran? Are you excited about anything?" The car was silent for a beat as everyone looked at the teen. He glanced around quickly before shrugging and sitting up straight. "Nothing much. I mean, I have to spend who knows how long in a strange place with a bunch of high strung models all clamoring to win first place. Sounds like a blood bath to me, if you guys are any indication. I'll be lucky if I make it home without dying. Especially since _he's _here." He jabbed his thumb in Bel's direction, who stopped playing with his knife to turn and smirk at the teen.

"Shi shi shi…a blood bath, huh? I think that sounds like fun~"

Fran rolled his eyes and returned to staring out the window, ignoring everything but the faint music coming from the radio all the way at the front of the car. He began to sing along to the song under his breath, forgetting for a moment that there were other people around. The car fell silent as everyone picked up on Fran's voice, and they all strained to hear him finish the song. Even Bel was stunned at the music coming from the teen's mouth. He quietly pocketed his knife, his emotions masked behind a contemplative frown. As the final notes faded away into nothing, Lussuria burst into applause.

"Oh, bravo, bravo, Fran-chan~! That was beautiful~! I see I made a good choice when I put you and Bel together. You're just _perfect _for the first gig~" He slapped his hands over his mouth after the last sentence, looking slightly guilty and turning to face the window without another word. Bel cocked an eyebrow at the man, but said nothing. He was too busy judging Fran's reaction to the fact that everyone had been listening to him sing. He was obviously getting better at hiding blushes, because his face and emotion remained unchanged as he nodded his thanks at Lussuria and turned once again to face the window. The car was silent for a good ten minutes before the opening riffs of _Cantarella_ played over the radio, and Bel pricked up his ears. Lussuria, too, sat up straighter in his seat and turned to face Fran.

"Fran chaaan~ Sing for us! It'll be good practice for your gig" He lifted a finger to his lips and winked at the teen, who was shaking his head furiously. Lussuria sighed gesturing to Bel.

"He'll sing too; you can do a duet version. Like I said, you'll need the practice. C'mon."

Fran sighed, eyeing the blonde next him with a cautious interest. He had to admit he was curious as to how well Bel could sing, and this song was one of his better ones vocally. With another shrug, he sat up straight and readied himself, just in time for him to start singing.

"_Our lines of sight intersect within this closed world. Although you play dumb, I can almost feel your infatuation. Hiding my burning heart, I approach you. Simply feeling my breath will be enough to paralyze you." _

Bel smirked and leaned slightly closer. Fran hadn't noticed it, but he had slowly been moving towards the blonde while he sang. Forcing down his nerves, he continued on with the verse, the rest of the car simply background images. The only thing he truly saw was his singing partner. Bel's smirk disappeared as he joined in for the next verse.

"_I now set up a trap to capture your captivated heart. I won't leave a footprint, even in the smallest crevice."_

Fran gave up on worrying about the closeness, for during the small musical interlude between verses, he and Bel had crept even closer. He had to admit, Bel's voice wasn't bad, and it melded with his nicely. He just wished the words he was singing weren't so damn captivating…

"_Thinking that my words are pure, you've let your guard down. Even if it were a potent poison, I had a feeling that you would still drink it all down."_

Bel joined in again, but still kept his voice in the background, letting Fran take the lead. This confused the teen, for it didn't seem like Bel's personality, but he shrugged mentally and continued on.

"_There's no place to escape from this rusty chain; the more you fight against the ticking of the clock's second hand, the harder it gets. If I slip you into the deep bushes, you'll probably be violated by the scent of our mixing sweats."_

In the pause that followed, Bel's smirk was all Fran could see. His vision had narrowed so severely that the blonde's smile was the only thing in existence at the moment. His lips and his voice compelled Fran to keep singing, even when he knew that everyone in the car was hung up on their every word. The attention usually would have made Fran freeze, but with Bel's surprisingly haunting voice in his ears, he could think of nothing but the next verse. As he took a breath to start, Bel raised a finger to his lips, and took it as a solo.

"_I now set up a trap to capture your captivated heart."_

He gestured to Fran, who took the cue, as well as his own solo.

"_I now peek into the small crevice."_

"_And capture you!"_

And then they were a duet once more, belting out the last verse as loudly as they could and still stay in tune.

"_I slipped you into the deep bushes, and you are now being violated by the scent of our mixing sweats."_

The closing riff was fading away slowly, and Fran's vision was returning at an alarming rate. He was painfully aware that Bel's face was mere inches from his own, the seductive smirk still dominating his features. The teen jerked back instantly, returning to his post against the window and shocked to the core that he had actually sung a duet with the one person he hated the most.

_But I have to admit, he's good. He's better than good, he's amazing. As in, screw-modeling-be-a-singer amazing…what am I saying? He was awful. I couldn't stand to listen to him. And since when did that stupid smirk of his become seductive? It's absolutely not attractive in any way and – _

"Froggy."

Fran snapped out of his musings, only to be face to face with Bel once more. The blonde had leaned over to Fran's side of the car, smirk still intact, if not more obvious, to whisper in his ear. As Fran reached out a hand to push him away, Bel grabbed his wrist and brought the hand to his lips. Ignoring Fran's whispered curses, he didn't release his grip until he had made eye contact with the teen; as well as he could, since his bangs were in the way, but somehow, Fran was able to stare right at his eyes without knowing where they were.

"You were good, frog. A little flat in places, but good. We should do it again sometime. Shi shi shi~~"

Fran yanked his wrist out of Bel's grasp and resumed his window staring.

"Never in a million years, senpai. Keep dreaming."

(Line break)

Squalo's time check earlier on was pretty accurate; the group pulled up to the Vongola mansion about an hour later. Fran stirred slightly as he felt the car slow to stop, and blinked his eye blearily as he looked out the window at the large mansion that now dominated his vision. He had fallen asleep shortly after his embarrassing duet with Bel, rather than face Lussuria's simpering over how 'cute' they were together. As the occupants of the car sprung into movement, leaping out of the car through any possible opening, Fran remained silent and still for a few seconds longer, waiting until Bel had exited the car with a maniacal laugh before he chose to move himself. As he stepped out of the car, he looked around at his surroundings, pausing for a moment to stretch out his cramped legs. He scanned the horizon, trying to see around the tree tops to spy anything remotely interesting to him. His eyes immediately latched on to a spire that belonged to a church of some sort, poking through the clouds, a dark blotch against an increasingly grey sky. Fran froze, a cold realization dripping through his body.

_No. It's impossible. I can't be back here, it's not true…_

"Fran-chan~! C'mon hun, we're heading up to the mansion now!"

Fran's shock was rudely interrupted by the sound of Lussuria's voice, and he turned slowly, being extra careful to keep his emotionless mask in place. Everyone was already making their way up the winding driveway that lead to the front door, and Fran started to follow silently. Bel was the only one who looked back to see if he was following; as soon as the blonde caught a glimpse of Fran's face, his concealed eyes widened in shock. He faced forward once more, thoughts racing through his mind.

_Shi shi shi…what's up with the frog?_

A few minutes later they were all standing awkwardly at the front door, waiting for the last chimes of the doorbell to fade into silence. Fran felt a curling apprehension in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with his current mood. He had the sinking feeling that once the door in front of him was opened, there would be no turning back for him. He would forever be affiliated with the people around him, and would have ties he couldn't sever. He almost turned back, almost started back down the hill, rather than face that kind of commitment, but before just as he turned away, the door finally opened.

Fran turned reluctantly back around, resisting the urge to raise an eyebrow at the man standing in front of him. He had a head of flyaway brown hair, somehow tamed enough to be secured into a ponytail that waved gently to just below his shoulder blades. His eyes had a permanently surprised light to them, their chocolate brown just a shade lighter than his hair. He had the awkwardness of a teenager hitting his growth spurt, but something in his eyes betrayed his older age, if you cared to look deep enough into his expression. Being an expert on hiding his emotions, Fran could instantly tell if someone else was doing the same, and it was obvious to him that this man also had a history of hiding his true feelings.

The man in question took in the sight of the six models standing awkwardly on the threshold of the mansion and broke into a beaming smile. "Varia! Glad you could make it! I was worried when I didn't receive a reply from you." Xanxus made a sound that closely resembled a snort and walked unceremoniously through the door, taking care to push the man out of the way in the process. The smiling man said nothing, but a faint flash of irritation sparked across his features, before he turned once again to the group with a charming expression.

"It seems that Xanxus-san hasn't changed at all from last year. Anyway, how are you? Please, come in, make yourselves comfortable." As he gestured the group into his home, he was joined by another man, making Fran stop in his tracks. His hair was longer, but the teen held no doubts as to the man's identity. As he bent to speak softly in the brown haired man's ear, Fran caught a glimpse of heterochromatic eyes.

_What the hell is he doing here?_

The man nodded slightly at the message he was receiving and turned to smile at the man. "Thank you, Mukuro, I'll be right there to handle it. Could you go back and keep things under control until I get there?" The man smirked and bowed his head slightly, dipping his red eye into a wink. "Anything for you, Tsunayoshi-kun." As he turned to leave, he caught sight of the green haired teen, causing his eyes to go wide in recognition.

"Oya oya, what do we have here? My little one, returned from the dead. Never thought I'd see you again, Fran-kun."

Fran concealed a scowl as everyone turned to look at him in surprise. "The feeling is mutual, Mukuro-san. I must say I was quite looking forward to never seeing your chromatically-challenged face ever again. Fate must have something against me." Much to his chagrin, Mukuro's only reaction to his insult was to chuckle quietly, and eye him with a coy expression. He bowed lightly in his direction, making sure never to break eye contact with the younger male, and turned to disappear into the depths of the mansion. "Until later, little one."

The awkward silence that his departure created existed no more than a couple beats, for Tsuna immediately tried to bring things back to normalcy. "You must be the new model. Lussuria told me that he had hired someone; my name is Tsunayoshi Sawada, and I'm the boss of the Vongola modeling group. It's a pleasure to meet you." He smiled at the teen, holding out a hand for him to shake, but his eyes held a faint bit of worry, certainly wondering about Mukuro's relation to him. Being sure to mask his irritation at the blue haired male, he took the man's extended hand and shook it once. "I'm Fran. Nice to meet you, Tsunayoshi-san." The man chuckled and released his hand, allowing the teen to retreat back to the rear of the group. "Please, call me Tsuna. You're making me feel old." He laughed lightly, and Lussuria quickly followed his lead. Fran was pretty sure he saw Squalo roll his eyes and Bel snicker quietly under his breath. Tsuna gestured once again for the group to come into the mansion, and shut the door quietly after everyone had filed in. He turned to the group in apology.

"I'm sorry to have to leave you so quickly, but there's a dispute between two models that I need to go take care of. Please, make yourselves at home. Your normal living areas have been prepared for your arrival." He turned and quickly dashed down the hall, quickly disappearing from sight.

"Shi shi shi…a dispute, huh? Sounds like fun!" Without another word, Bel took off after Tsuna, giggling hysterically the entire way. Squalo started after him with a yell. 'VRAIIT! BEL! GET BACK HERE YOU FREAK!" Lussuria giggled like a school-girl and grabbed Fran's hand, dragging him unceremoniously through the twists and turns of the mansion, blatantly ignoring his protests. They stopped at the entrance to a large sitting room, where a huge amount of noise was originating from. There was a sound of something shattering, and Fran wondered briefly if this was an entirely good idea.

Peering into the room, it seemed like they were just about the last ones to arrive. There were a large amount of people in the room, but the ones who stood out to Fran the most were the three he already knew, Tsuna, Xanxus, and Mukuro, as well as a few others; a man standing in the corner with a head of spiky white hair, a smirk, and a purple tattoo under his eye. Another man standing next to Tattoo, with extremely long, pale green hair and enormous gold earrings. And of course, the people associated with the fight; a man with short, silver hair, a guy with blonde spikes and an army bandana, and someone Fran recognized from the photos he'd seen. A slight youth with purple hair, and purple eyes that were currently alight with spite and scorn. Fran shot a glance over to Bel, who was standing frozen in the doorway, a blank expression on his face. Another crashing sound shifted his attention back to the fight, which he was quickly absorbed into.

It appears that the silver haired man had thrown a chair at Mammon, which exploded into pieces at his feet. Laughing loudly, the purple haired man gingerly picked up a shattered piece of chair leg, waving it threateningly at the other man.

"Is that all you got, Gokudera? C'mon, I would have thought you would defend your precious boss a little better than this. Although I suppose he's so pathetic that even you can't find a good thing to defend about him, eh?" Mammon stepped back slightly as a vase was sent flying in his direction. It hit the ground somewhere behind him with a smash, shattering to all corners of the room. The silver haired man was livid with anger, stepping toward Mammon with furious intent. Mammon just laughed again.

"Ooh, scary, Goku. Let me go cower in my shoes now." He swung the sharpened piece of wood in his hand at Gokudera, who stumbled out of the way just in time. Tsuna, who was being held back by both Mukuro and another man with spiky black hair and a scar on his chin, ripped free of his guards and leapt into the fray.

"Gokudera Hayato! Get your ass out of here now! I will not tolerate fighting in my house!" Gokudera stopped dead in his tracks, turning slightly to face the man in front of him. Tsuna was standing between Mammon and Gokudera, hands on hips and a furious gleam in his eyes. It could have been his imagination, but Fran was sure that Tsuna's eyes flashed orange in the few seconds of his outburst. Gokudera stared at his boss, stammering out an excuse.

"Tenth, he insulted you! I'm your right hand man; I can't just stand by while this purple prick insults you!" Tsuna's glare didn't soften at Gokudera's words; if anything, it got even colder.

"You can and will tolerate him. He is a guest in this house, and I will have him treated as such. Reborn." He turned to speak to someone behind him, and a man in a black and orange fedora raised his head with a bored air about him. Tsuna faced him head on.

"You are an old friend of mine and will be treated like one. But if you do not keep your models in line, you will be removed from the competition and this mansion. Am I clear?" Tsuna's eyes flashed orange again, and Reborn nodded, a slight smirk on his face. Tsuna turned to the rest of the room's occupants. "If everyone would please find someone else to congregate for the time being, I would greatly appreciate it. I need to clean up the mess in here. Thank you." As he turned away and every started moving, Mammon swung the wood he was still holding at Tsuna's head, a crazy light in his eyes. The wood connected with flesh with a sick thud, and Tsuna's body recoiled from the blow and slumped to the ground. Three different people called out the brown haired man's name in surprise and fear, while one called out Mammon's name in fury. Mukuro, Gokudera, and the other man who was holding Tsuna back from the fight rushed to the fallen man's side, while the blonde who was with Mammon grabbed onto the smaller man's wrist with a furious look in his eyes. Gokudera lifted his head from Tsuna's fallen form just long enough to yell at someone. "Reborn! Help me get him out of here! And you!" He pointed at Mammon with a shaking finger, "Don't you dare move from where you are! I'll deal with you momentarily." With Reborn's help, they were able to get Tsuna out of the room through a separate exit than the one Fran, Bel, Squalo, and Lussuria were standing in in shocked silence. Everyone else began to file silently out of the room via multiple other exits around the room. Soon, the only people left in the room were Mammon, the blonde, Xanxus, and the four standing in the doorway. The blonde released Mammon's wrist with a noise of disgust and grabbed the man by the shoulders.

"What the hell were you thinking, Mammon? Why would you do something like this? You could be kicked out of the Arcobaleno for this; who knows what Reborn will do! Tsuna is an old friend of his, why would you take a risk like this?" Mammon lifted a hand and held it over the blonde's mouth, effectively stopping his onslaught of words. He kept his eyes downcast as he mumbled out an answer.

"I'm sorry, Colonello. I don't know what happened. He pisses me off with all his smiles and faked happiness. He has two amazingly attractive men positively drooling over him, and he doesn't seem to notice their affection, or if he does, he chalks it up to friendship. He's going to hurt people, 'Nello; I thought that…I thought…"

"You thought it would be better to hurt him than to have him hurt someone else."

Everyone jumped at the unexpected outburst, and all eyes locked onto Bel. He was leaning against the doorframe, concealed eyes locked onto Mammon's face, and a deep frown on his face. That frown twisted into a pained smirk, and he walked slowly forward.

"Mammon."

The purple haired man jerked himself out of Colonello's grasp and turned away from him, his body language clearly stating 'Leave". The blonde sighed and ran a hand through his messy locks, his blue eyes alight with worry. "Oi, hey, Mammon…just don't do anything stupid, okay?"

Mammon's only response was a roomful of silence, and he gestured to the door, indicating that he should leave. The blonde shook his head and left without a word, closely the door softly behind him.

Mammon continued to stare at the opposite wall, not turning around to face the man behind him.

"Belphegor. Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong. I thought you'd learned that lesson a long time ago."

Bel shrugged, but the pained smirk never left his face. "Shi shi…maybe I'm a slow learner." Mammon turned around in anger, his eyes alight with purple fire. "Don't fuck with me, Bel. I'm not in the mood for your antics." His gaze landed on Fran, who was standing silently in the doorway, and his lips curled into a sneer. "And who's this child? If he's my replacement, it sure didn't take you long to find one. And you really didn't do a great job, either. He's nothing much to look at." Fran didn't react to Mammon's jibes, which seemed to infuriate him more. He spoke directly to him now.

"What's wrong, kid? Lost your voice? Too busy pissing yourself in fear to say something? C'mon, say something!" He was very close now, only about a foot away. Fran showed no emotion, but lifted his head to stare directly into the other man's eyes. He parted his lips, and couldn't stop the words from flowing out of his mouth.

"For your information, you purple bastard, I am perfectly capable of the power of speech. In fact, I can speak in five different languages. I don't appreciate you speaking to me as if I was an idiot, and ask you to please refrain from doing so. If it is a war of words you wish to engage, I assure you that I will not lose to you. I am, as a matter of fact, your replacement. My features do not differ too much from your own, so insulting my looks will get you nowhere. True, I am younger by a few years, but if anything that increases my chances of surpassing you, for you will be too old to model sooner than I. Do you have any other insults to spew at me? Because I was already in a bad mood when I walked into this mansion, and you are doing nothing to improve it."

Mammon sneered and opened his mouth to continue his prodding, but Fran beat him to it.

"Who was the man who left just now? Someone special to you?" The question caused Mammon to freeze, before avoiding answering it altogether. "Why do you talk like that? You sound like a broken robot." Fran chuckled in monotone, causing everyone in the room to shiver at the strange sound. "The reason I hide my emotions is of no importance to you. Let's just say my past hasn't been the epitome of happiness. But as I said, that's of no importance to you." He walked over to where a large window dominated the wall and gazed outside. He could just make out the church spire, and he sneered slightly before masking his emotion once more.

"You know, years of masking my emotions has allowed me to see through other people attempts at the same. Meaning that I can see every emotion you're trying to hide right now." He looked over his shoulder at the stunned male before continuing. "Although, to be honest, you don't make it very hard. He has a girlfriend, I assume? Ah, of course he does. Otherwise you wouldn't have such a sense of unrequited love about you. You feel shunned, unwanted, undesirable. And you want to know something, Mammon?" the sound of his name seemed to jerk him out of his reverie, if only for a moment. Fran tuned and walked toward the frozen male, leaning in close to whisper in his ear.

"You're right. He doesn't want you. You know why?"

Fran straightened and looked the other male in the eye. "It's because you don't deserve his affection. You don't deserve anyone's affection. Walking around, treating people's kindness like shit, pretending you own the world; not very desirable traits. You're so focused on winning over his heart that you don't see anyone else's feelings, even those who were once close to you." He cast a glance over to Bel, who was standing with a shocked expression on his face. He turned back to Mammon to finish his rant.

"Don't take people for granted. I may be younger, but I'm more mature than you in that respect. Because if you do, when they're gone, you'll be left alone, with nothing but regret." He unconsciously looked over his shoulder at the dark blotch against the sky, before returning his gaze to the male in front of him.

"Now, I'm not you, thankfully, but if I _were_ you, I'd go sit by Tsuna-san's bedside and pray to whatever god you worship that he wakes up to forgive you. Otherwise, you'll have lost Colonello's trust for life. And that, my friend, is the first step into regret. Now leave. I'm done with you."

He turned to face out the window once more, his body language clearly stating that the discussion was over. Mammon stood, stunned, for a few beats before silently backing out of the room, through the same door Colonello went through. When he heard the door shut, Fran all but collapsed against the window, shoulders shaking from the effort of keeping a straight face.

_Being so close to my past isn't good for me. I need to leave here, as soon as possible. I'm sure Lussuria will understand._

The distinct feeling of another body behind him caused Fran to stiffen, and even more so when that person placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Vrait…Fran. You okay?"

Fran took a steadying breath, well aware of the fact he was still shaking violently. "Y-yeah, Squalo-san, thank you. I'm fine. I just need to be alone for a while. I'm sorry if I caused you trouble." He could almost hear Squalo blink in confusion. "Trouble? Vrait, you didn't cause us trouble Fran. If anything, I'm proud of you. Not many people could stand up to Mammon like that. It was very impressive. Even Bel thought so." Fran jumped at the sound of the blonde's name, surprised that Squalo would even bring it up. He felt his features twist into an expression of confusion, and hastened to smooth them out. He was really slipping. He had to get somewhere quiet and unpopulated, fast. He shrugged out of Squalo comforting grip, turning his face away from the long haired man.

"Really, Squalo-san, thank you. But please, could you leave me alone?"

Squalo mumbled a 'sure', a worried look on his face as he regarded the teen. Fran's shaking form struck a raw chord somewhere in Squalo's heart, and he wanted nothing more than to comfort the boy. But if he wanted to be alone, then Squalo had no choice than to comply. He walked quietly out of the room, closing the door behind him. Bel was anxiously pacing the hall, but stopped and rushed to Squalo's side when he saw the other man.

"What happened to him? Is he okay?"

Squalo stared at the blonde in blatant shock, disbelieving the words he had just heard the blonde say. Twisting his features into a scowl, Bel grabbed the front of Squalo's shirt in impatience. "Goddammit, Squ, is he alright! I saw nothing past Mammon starting to leave the room, that was when Lussuria pushed me out. Is he okay? Did Mammon hurt him? _Answer me, Squalo!"_ The insane grip on the older man's shirt tightened, nearly ripping the thin cotton fabric. Squalo lifted his hand and placed it gently over Bel's shaking ones.

"Vrait, he's fine Bel. He wanted to be left alone. To be honest, though, I'm worried about him. I've never seen him like that."

Bel tore his hands away from Squalo's shirt and burst into the room he had just vacated, ignoring Squalo's protests. As he quickly scanned the room, Bel's heart sank to his toes with emotions he hadn't felt since he was a child.

His strange obsession with the frog's safety could be put off as stress from seeing his long time love interest; Bel had already formulated a story to tell about why he acted the way he did. However, there was only one emotion with the correct name that described what Bel felt when he walked into the empty room.

Fear.

(Line break)

The instant Squalo exited the room, Fran was running. Running through the twists and turns of the mansion, trying to retrace his steps and make it to the front door without being notice by anyone he knew. He passed a few unfamiliar faces on his way; a young teen with curly black hair, a girl with short, straight, green hair, and a tall blonde man next to her. He paid them no mind as he blew by them, forcing himself to continue on, despite his labored breathing.

Finally, he reached the main doorway, and didn't miss a step as he turned the handle and ran across down the hill he had walked up not an hour earlier. He heard someone yelling his name as he ran, but the voice was silenced by a loud peal of thunder. Fran gasped as a droplet of rain hit him square in the eye, blinking away the moisture as more water began to fall around him.

_"Mother, please? Can I?"_

_ Rain had just started to fall, and the young boy and his mother were taking shelter under an awning, where a magician had set up some of his best tricks. The man demonstrated magic trick after magic trick to the little boy to keep him entertained, and the child watched with wide eyes. Smirking slightly, the man conjured a bouquet of flowers seemingly out of nowhere, and handed them to the boy. With a giggle, he took them and gave them to his mother, but when the flowers left his hands, they vanished into thin air. The boy laughed in surprise and turned back to the man, who was smiling down at him._

_ "Would you like to try?" He handed him a deck of cards, and bent to whisper in his ear. "Try and pick what card is going to be on top." The child concentrated, his green hair falling around his face in a curtain of silk as he bent his head and scrunched up his eyes. He opened them a few seconds later and said calmly, "Ace of Spades." He flipped over the top card in one smooth motion, laughing in delight when he was it was indeed the Ace of Spades. The man smiled again._

_ "You're a natural, little one. You could be a great magician someday…hmm." The man tapped his chin with one finger, a strand of dark blue hair falling across his face. He watched the child fidget impatiently, before finally blurting out "What? 'Hmm' what?" The man smiled again and bent down to the boy's level. He couldn't be more than eight years old at this point; there was too much innocence in his eyes for him to be any older than that. The man ruffled his hair with one hand. "What would you say about being my apprentice, little one?" The boy's eyes lit up with excitement as he turned to his mother._

_ "Oh, please mother, can I? Please?" His face was filled with such a happy expression that his mother, who shared his light green locks and aqua eyes, could do nothing but nod her consent. "Of course you can, Fran. But you have to be home in time for dinner each day." The child turned back around to face his new teacher and bowed, his hair once more masking his face in shadow. "I'm so happy, sensei! When can you start teaching me?" The man chuckled and ruffled his hair again, causing the boy to stand up straight. His eyes were alight with joy, and a smile was spread from ear to ear. The man's lips parted into a smile, and gave the excited boy his answer. _

_ "Oya oya, if you're that excited, you can start tomorrow! Meet me in front of the big church in town at noon, alright, little one?" The boy nodded his agreement and turned to leave. "Oh, one more thing. Forget the whole 'sensei' thing. You can call me Mukuro."_

Fran paused to rest under the boughs of a maple tree, trying to catch his breath in shuddering gasps. He hadn't thought about his meeting Mukuro since he had left this town eight years ago. He looked around to get his bearings. He recognized his surroundings almost instantly. He was just on the outskirts of the town, right around where the devil-cursed church stands. Cursing under his breath, Fran stepped back out into the rain, jogging along the trail, trying to avoid as many memories as he could.

"_Oya oya, Fran, you're getting better. A little more practice and you can perform with me."_

_ In the year after their chance encounter on the street, Fran became Mukuro's shadow. There was hardly a day went by that the boy wasn't trailing behind the older male, watching excitedly as he performed illusion after illusion to the common people on the street. Mukuro taught him everything, graduating from simple card tricks, to sleight of hand, and eventually to conjuring. Fran wanted desperately to create things, as Mukuro had created the bouquet of flowers the day they met. On the fateful day he was to be taught the method, he met Mukuro outside the church, as he had every other day that year. And, just like any other day, Fran followed Mukuro silently into the woods behind the church, where they would perform their magics away from the public eye._

_ Hours passed while Mukuro explained the details of the art. He explained that it wasn't conjuring, exactly, but more like imagery. You had to make the person believe that what they were seeing was real, and then they would see it as if it were really there. Fran's eyes grew wider and wider as the older man continued to explain. He knew he had the young boy hooked on his every word, and knew that he probably understood everything he was telling him. With one final smirk, Mukuro placed his hands on the ground, palm down, and leaned backwards slightly. "Well, little one? Are you ready to try it?"_

_ Fran nodded enthusiastically, but he paused and looked at the sun anxiously. _

_ "I am…but I promised Mother I'd be home early today. She and Father are meeting me at the church to pick me up, and we're all going for a picnic together. Just me and them, cuz Father isn't home much. So…" He looked sheepishly at his teacher, a light blush dusting his cheeks. "Thank you for explaining it to me, but I should wait until tomorrow before trying it."_

_ Mukuro blinked in surprise at the boy maturity, but laughed all the same and ruffled the child's hair. "All right, little one, let's go meet your parents. We'll have plenty of time tomorrow to practice."_

_ Fran smiled hugely and leapt to his feet, running to Mukuro's side to help him up. As the child burst into laughter, Mukuro frowned slightly and placed his hand on Fran's head. "You shouldn't be so open with your emotions, Fran. As a magician, you should be more secretive, and hide what you're really feeling. Don't let people into your heart so easily; otherwise you give everything away."_

Fran stood silently in front of the church, ignoring the rain dripping down his back, and gluing his thin clothes to his body. It looked just as he remembered it from all those years ago; ancient stones piled atop one another, with intricate metal workings around the stained glass windows. Nothing had change since the day he saw it last, other than the fact there were no longer bodies lying sprawled across the front steps…

"_…Mother! Father! Why are you lying down like that?"_

_ Fran raced up to the front steps of the church, bending down next to his mother, a worried expression on his face. As he shook her gently by the arm, the smell of what he was kneeling in hit him. He cried out, pulling his hand away and scrambling backwards. He looked down at his hand and knees, which were all dying with a sticky red substance. His vision swam as searing hot tears fell down his face, and he crawled back towards his parents._

_ "…Mother?...Father? This…this isn't funny. Mother! Mother, please wake up! Please, please get up!"_

_ "Little one, we need to get out of here. The killer could still be around."_

_ Killer…_

_ His world was suddenly tilted as Mukuro carried him away from his parent's bodies, muttering soothing words to the sobbing child. They hadn't heard the gunshots from the hide away in the woods, but it was obvious from the amount of blood spilt on the steps of the church that that was how the couple had died. No reason, no hatred between them and the killer, just pure accident. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time._

_ Fran learned later that the killer had been captured, and sentence to a life in prison for murder. He felt no sense of justice, no satisfaction. Mukuro cared for him, but even he could tell that Fran was not himself. He no longer laughed, smiled, or even cried. His face was devoid of emotion, giving no hint to what he was truly feeling. Mukuro supposed that in the midst of it all, the child had latched onto the last thing he'd heard; "You should hide what you're really feeling. Don't let people into your heart easily."_

_ Mukuro wasn't surprised when he awoke one morning to find Fran gone. Without a note to indicate his destination, the man was left only with the newspaper clipping dictating the boy's tragic story, and the memory of a smile he knew he would never see again. _

H was so entrapped by his thoughts that Fran didn't hear the person coming up behind him under he was jumped by him, thrown to the ground with a foot placed on the small of his back, and his arm twisted around and secured on the ground.

"She she she…what have we here? A little frog, lost from the pond? Watcha doing out in the rain, kid? You know it's dangerous around here?"

Fran didn't say anything, but peered out of the corner of his eye, trying to get a glimpse of his attacker. All he could see was one of the man's hands, with painted black fingernails and a silver ring with wings residing on his middle finger.

"She she, none of that, now~!" Fran winced as his head was lifted up by his hair and then slammed back down onto the pavement. He felt his lip split open, and the distinct metallic taste of blood in his mouth. The man's hands left his hair and Fran felt his attacker shift to a more comfortable position. With one hand, the man flipped the teen onto his back, allowing Fran his first good look at him.

He had to suppress a gasp when he saw him. If not for the length and style of his hair, he could have been looking up at Bel. The resemblance was so uncanny that there was little doubt in Fran's mind on whether they were related or not. They simply had to be.

He was jerked from his stunned reverie by the sound of the man's voice.

"She she she…you're a cute one, aren't you? I'm gonna have fun with you~"

Fran opened his mouth to start spitting out insults, but the Bel look alike generated a piece of duct tape seemingly out of nowhere and placed it over the teen's lips. With the teen effectively silence, the blonde whipped a lighter out from his back pocket and flipped it open, being careful to shield the flame from the rain, which was beginning to lighten up.

"Now, let's see how well you burn…she she she"

With a maniac grin that put Bel to shame, the man lowered the flame to the strip of skin exposed by the hem of Fran's shirt, just above his pelvis. When he felt the white-hot lick of fire against his skin, Fran squirmed in pain and tried to escape from under his attacker. The man above him tch-ed and snapped the light closed, sitting down atop of the teen's legs and fishing around in the bag next to him for something. He pulled out a roll of duct tape, a triumphant grin plastered on his face. Seconds later, Fran found himself with his wrists taped together above his head, and his forearms taped to the ground. The rain had let up completely by this point, allowing the blonde to light his lighter without difficulty, and hold it teasingly in front of Fran's face.

"What should I burn next, hm? How about here?" He snuck a hand up Fran's chest, raising his shirt up in the process, and exposing his pale abdomen. Fran began to squirm again in fear, but it didn't stop the blonde from lowering the lighter to his skin once more, ghosting the flame over the exposed skin, just close enough to leave a mark, and just close enough to burn. Fran jerked at the pain, able to feel every inch of skin that the flame was touching. He heard himself whimper quietly, and the flame disappeared. The blonde leaned forward, hovering his face inches above the teen's.

"She she she…what was that? Didn't quite hear you. Oh well. Guess it wasn't important, then." He returned to his administrations on Fran's torso, ignoring, or perhaps enjoying, Fran's whimpers and muffled cries of pain. Just as the man snapped the lighter closed, Fran heard fast, heavy footsteps approaching the both of them.

"Fran! What the…_SIEL! GET OFF OF HIM!" _

The man's weight disappeared suddenly, and Fran could feel the vibrations of the two males hitting the ground. He was otherwise distracted, however, when someone removed the tape from his mouth. He gasped in pain, looking up through teary eyes to see two different colors staring down at him in worry.

"I knew you'd be here, little one."

Fran said nothing, instead choosing to slip into blissful unconsciousness, rather than put up with the pain on his skin any longer.

(Line break)

"Fran-kun! What happened to you! …Let go, Gokudera, I'm fine; but Fran! Is he okay?"

Bel was carrying the teen in his arms as the trio walked through the doors of the mansion. Mukuro nodded to the blonde and proceeded to hold onto Tsuna's shoulders, gently explaining what had happened to the worried man. Tsuna ignored that fact that the bandages on his head were slipping into his face, and concentrated solely on what Mukuro was telling him.

Bel slipped silently past different groups of people, all clamoring to know what had happened, and all being pushed away by the blonde's dangerous aura. In this manner, he reached the third floor of the mansion, where his room was, and set the teen down onto his bed before stripping him out of his rain soaked shirt. Bel hissed in fury when he caught a good look at Fran's stomach, and clenched his fists at his sides.

Siel hadn't been gentle with his ministrations, and Fran wasn't going to be happy when he woke up. Spelled out across his stomach in burns severe enough to scar over, was the name "Rasiel", a name that wasn't going to be leaving his skin any time soon.

Bel climbed onto the bed and secured the teen in his arms, holding the boy close as he slipped further into unconsciousness. He was going to make sure that Siel never laid his filthy hand son him ever again; not caring that he was acting completely different than normal, and not bothering with the fact that anyone could walk in at any moment, Bel nestled Fran into his embrace and buried his face in green locks, breathing in the scent of the teen.

_I'm gonna protect you, Froggy._

_ I think I love you. _


	7. Chapter 7

**A/n: Okay. Okay, before we start I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER!**

**My excuses include being a junior in highschool and the lead in our school play, but let's just say I've been a little stressed. I feel really bad though, so look! It's up! And it's really long! Like almost 10,000 words! Yay! Please don't kill me….**

**Now that that's out of the way, I just want to thank everyone for their beautiful reviews! I've gotten so many positive comments about this fanfiction, I'm on cloud nine. Thank you so much everyone! You make my day, you really do. **

**Okay, enough sappy stuff. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own KHR. Obviously. If I did, they'd all be wearing dresses and makeup ALL THE TIME. Just sayin. **

**Here are the links for the various songs in this chapter. There are a lot…**

http : / / www. youtube .com /watch?v=dna4OTwhzOo

http : / / www. youtube. com /watch?v=-H_orTKxqLw

http : / / www .youtube .com /watch?v=PBZICTaUmU0

http : / / www .youtube .com/watch?v=eyGRE2VUmQ0

**So, without further ado. Chapter 7, ladies and gentlemen. **

Fran awoke slowly, wrinkling his brow as he struggled to keep his warm blanket of black nothingness, trying to not return to the reality he knew he wouldn't enjoy in the least. His efforts were almost paid off, but just as the dark blanket of sleep was cast over him, a high pitched scream punctured it, pulling him harshly back into the waking world.

"_Everyone~! Fran-chan is awake~! Come quick!"_

The teen groaned out a curse, blinking his eyes open reluctantly to come face to face with two pools of black plastic. Fran blinked rapidly in confusion before his eyes went wide and he leapt back with a very _manly_ yell. Lussuria moved his face away as Fran moved, adjusting his dark sunglasses to settle better on his face and pouting at the teen.

"Now now, Fran-chan, no need to yell. I'm not scary~"

After mumbling something that sounded extremely like 'ducking glass mole*', Fran settled back into a more comfortable position, leaning against the headboard of his bed and sighing wearily. He hadn't been in the waking world more than ten seconds, and he was already being creeped on. Typical.

Commotion at the door leading to his room caused Fran to focus his attention to that space, one eyebrow arching into his sleep tousled hair in response to the spectacle in front of him. Mukuro, Squalo, Tsuna, and the silver haired man from before were all seemingly lodged in the small doorframe to his bedroom, apparently all trying to get into the room at once. Covering a smirk with one hand, Fran gasped at the pain that flashed across his torso at the movement. At this sound, everyone that was stuck in the door froze, all of them falling into the room at once, like a cheesy scene out of some shoujo anime.

"V-VRAIT! KID! WHAT'S WRONG?"

Fran winced, not from pain this time, but from the sheer volume of Squalo's words. Thought they were meant to comfort him, they actually only made his ears ring strangely and his head to start pounding in tandem with the burning flesh of his stomach. Breathing shakily out, Fran swung his legs out across the edge of the bed and, ignoring the yells of protest from the models around him, lurched into standing position.

The pain was almost unbearable, shooting across his skin in lightning strikes, lacing through his muscles and disappearing somewhere around his upper chest. Limping over to the large floor-length mirror that dominated one end of the room, Fran slipped his eyes shut and carefully inched his loose t-shirt up over his head, trying to jostle his stomach muscles as little as possible. The collective gasp that went around the room as the fabric fluttered to the floor didn't inspire the teen to be very hopeful about what he was about to see. Steeling himself for the worst, he slowly opened his eyes.

He was sorely tempted to just close them again, and pretend that the horrid image in front of him didn't exist, that he was still dreaming, imagining the injury that spread across his stomach. He knew, though, deep in his mind that ignoring it wouldn't make it go away. Even if he turned around now and hobbled back into bed, the scar would still be there in the morning, and the morning after that, and the morning after that. It would never leave. So, instead of closing his eyes and hiding it, Fran reached towards the skin of his stomach, wincing slightly as the pads of his fingertips brushed against the inflamed surface. He lightly traced each charred letter etched into his skin, travelling down his torso at a slight angle. When he had gently spelled out the name 'Rasiel' that dominated his skin, the teen raised a second hand, and laid both palms flat against his stomach. The pain already fading, he brushed his hands lightly over the redness surrounding the letters. It seemed like it had already begun to heal and scar over; whoever had been taking care of him knew what they were doing. There was no sign of infection. In a few days, all that would be left in the wake of the injury was the silvery scar-like tissue spelling out the name of a man he didn't even know.

Strangely satisfied with what he found, Fran nodded to himself and turned away from the mirror, letting his hands drop to his side. With the understanding that it was only a burn, and nothing more serious than that, he was able to mentally overcome the pain still radiating slightly from his skin. He walked fairly normally back over to his bed and sat down effortlessly, placing both hands slightly behind him on the bed as he gazed around at the room's silent occupants.

"There's no need to worry, you know. It's only a burn. It'll heal."

Everyone looked at each other, obviously wondering if the teen had lost it. They had all expected Fran to freak out when he saw the burns.

_Obviously, they don't know me well enough yet. Bel would have known I was fine._

At the thought of the blonde man, Fran's eyes widened as the flimsy memory of a half dream swam in front of his eyes. He was being carried through hallways full off people, but no one touched him. The only thing that existed was the pair of strong arms rushing him someplace deep within the mansion. The next thing he knew, he was curled up against another warm body, listening to the quiet, choked sobs that shook through the other person's being. Just as he was about to slip into full unconsciousness, the other person spoke, in a voice that was familiar, and yet unrecognizable.

_I'm gonna protect you, Froggy. I - _

He had blacked out after that, and heard no more.

(line breakage)

Bel kicked a small stone along the gravel path, not bothering to answer his vibrating phone in favor of delivering a particularly sharp kick to the little rock, sending it careening off of its normal path and plopping quietly into the little pond next to it. His phone stopped vibrating, only to shake once more a few seconds later. Sighing to himself, he shimmied the device out of his back pocket and flipped it open.

Five missed calls and one new voicemail.

Mumbling out a few choice curses, the prince lifted the phone to his ear and listened to his message.

_"Bel-chan, I don't know where you are, but little Fran-chan is awake! It's been a few days, so he's a little out of it, but he saw the burns and…well, he's taking it really well. We're all really surprised, actually. But whatever, you should come back now, Bel. We've missed you. I don't know what's going on between you two, but disappearing for three days isn't the answer. Come home, Bel. Fran's been asking for you."_

The message ended abruptly with the sound of someone shouting on the other end. Snapping the phone shut, Bel scowled and clenched the device in the palm of his hand, turning on his heel to gaze out across the little pond he was standing next to.

He couldn´t return yet. He still had to find the pathetic waste of space called Rasiel, his twin, who was maybe even more psychopathic than he was. He had to find him, hurt him, cut him for what he had done to his frog. _His _frog. _His Fran._ He would kill Rasiel when he found him. The man still hadn't learned not to touch his belongings.

Of course, in order to kill him, Bel actually had to _find_ him first, which was proving harder than he had first thought it would be. Three days had turned up nothing but a piece of white fluffy fabric from the man's coat, which, Bel was certain, had been placed there purposefully by his twin. Besides that small scrap of a hint, Bel had no idea where to start the search for his twin once again. So he stood, glaring at the setting sun as it reflected across the pond, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He stooped to pick up a decent sized rock and hurled it with all his strength across the water. Before the stone had a chance to hit the surface of the glassy lake, his phone vibrated once more.

(Line break)

Lussuria came back into the room, shaking his head sadly. He still had the cellphone in his hand, its little screen still lit up from the recent call. As Fran watched, the screen went black, and the model closed the phone with a snap. Squalo, who had yelled for Lussuria to come check up on Fran's wounds, was also surprisingly silent. It seems everyone knew what Bel was doing, but they refused to tell him, as if the news would send him into a state of shock. Fran scowled inwardly. Bel would never have underestimated him like this….

_Again with Bel! Why do I care? He's nothing but a jerk…_

Even as he thought it, Fran knew it wasn't true. The blonde may be an asshole on occasion…alright, more often than not, he was an ass. But Fran had seen a few brief flashes of decency in the man, knowing enough about hiding emotions to see that Bel's evil façade was just that, a cover up. He truly was a decent guy; for some reason, he was afraid to show it.

_Not that you have any right to judge. You're the same way. _

Fran's musings were cut off by Lussuria dangling a shiny piece of plastic in front of his face. The teen blinked at the device, looking at Lussuria confusedly.

"It's a cell phone, Fran-chan. We all decided that we can't let what happened to you happen ever again. So we bought you a phone. Don't worry, we're covering all costs – don't give me that look, Fran. You're important to us. We want you to be safe."

"Take the damn phone, kid. Don't argue." The light in Squalo's eyes was somewhere between caring and threatening, so Fran gulped and grabbed the plastic device without any further argument. Not the he had made much of _any_ argument before he was shot down. Models. Always have to be one step ahead of you.

Fran had to admit, it was a great phone. It was green, (big surprise) with lighter green accents along the sides. It wasn't an iPhone or a Droid or anything fancy like that; it was just a simple flip phone, with a small touchscreen and a keyboard. Fran noticed as he started to navigate around that Lussuria had taken the liberties of attaching a phone charm to the corner; the little frog stared cutely at him, and Fran didn't have the heart to remove it.

As he scrolled through the contacts already in the phone (Mama Luss, Loudmouth, Boss, and Ugly Bastard), Fran noticed the lack of a certain blonde's number. An idea began to form in the back of Fran's mind, and he glanced up at Lussuria for a brief instant. Would the other man help him? He was certain of it. Worth a shot.

"Lussuria? Can I have Bel-senpai's number?"

(Line break)

Bel cursed and whipped out the handheld once again, pausing to quirk an eyebrow at the number. He didn't recognize it. Not many people had this number, and he had phone the telemarketing company once, telling them that if they called him one more time about pointless, shit, he would personally hunt them down and kill each and every one of them. Miraculously, the calls had stopped. So it couldn't be a telemarketer. Then who?

The phone had stopped ringing at this point, and Bel kept the device in his palm, waiting to see if the unknown caller left a message. Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and when the phone lit up briefly a few moments later, Bel quickly lifted the phone to his ear.

_Hey Senpai, it's Fran. _

Bel's heart beat strangely in his chest and the sound of the teen's voice. When he had left the house the night of the 'accident', Fran had still been unconscious, with Lussuria working frantically over him, trying to stabilize the poor kid. The other man had made no comment when he walked in to see Bel curled up against the teen, but had promptly shooed him away, to give him space to work. That was the final image of Fran the blonde had seen, and hearing the green-haired teen's voice was enough to bring a sigh of relief to his lips. The boy truly was getting better.

_I don't know where you are, or what you're doing, but everyone else does. Well, maybe not the 'where' part, but they know what you're doing. They won't tell me. I think I know, though. You're looking for Rasiel, aren't you? Ah, well, Lussuria just gasped, so I guess that's right. The competitions are starting tomorrow, you know. You should be here. I don't want to model without a partner. Not that I care or anything. You should just come back soon. Whatever. I'm hanging up nowwwww. …Bye, senpai._

The message ended with a click, and Bel stood frozen in place for a good long while afterwards. He wanted to play the message again, to be sure that Fran really was okay. At least, that's what he told himself. The truth was he just really loved the sound of the teen's voice.

_Love._

The word jolted him out of his reverie. He stuffed his phone into his pocket and turned on his heel, walking away from the lake with large, purposeful steps.

Unbeknownst to Bel, the scrap of fluff that was his only lead to his twin broke free from his pocket and floated gracefully to the ground behind him.

A few moments later, the lake was silent. Darkness had begun to fall, and the blonde was nowhere in sight. Detaching himself from the tree behind which he was hiding, another blonde walked silently over to the fallen piece of cloth. He picked it up with long, spindly fingers, the red ring he wore sparkling in the fading light. Holding the cloth to his lips, a maniacal grin spread across his face.

"She she she…where do you think you're going, brother?"

(Line break)

Walking around proved to be easy for Fran; he figured it was because he was only experiencing minor skin pain, rather than the fiery internal pain that went along with having a practically severed arm. Walking slowly and shaking off people's requests to assist him, the teen made his way down the winding hallway, following the source of the increasingly loud babble of noise. Lussuria was hovering behind him like some demented guardian angel, simpering and itching to help him, but a couple of blank glares from the younger boy sent him skittering back to the far end of the hall, hands secured behind his back and lips sealed against the phrase 'do you want any help?'. Fran snickered inwardly and shuffled on forward, turning to the right and passing through the open door that led to the center of the noise in the mansion.

The teen blinked, having just found himself in the largest room he had ever seen. It was easily the size of four official-size swimming pools, but round, imitating the look of a period ballroom. Three massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling, helping with the classical look by filling the whole room with an eerie half-light, reflecting off of the red-orange tile that made up the floor and absorbing into the dark, polished furniture. The chatter that bounced around the room ebbed and flowed, due to the sheer number of people in the room. Fran recognized Xanxus, sulking in a corner, nursing a drink that looked like (and probably was) whiskey, and Levi, sulking in the opposite corner, nursing a drink that looked like (and probably was) grape juice. Other than that, everyone Fran knew was currently walking behind him; Mukuro, Lussuria, Squalo, and Tsuna. Tsuna's silver haired friend, whose name Fran _still_ couldn't remember, had gone off to do some final checks about the competition the next night and sort out some fight or other between two more models. It was beginning to dawn on the teen that being a model was a very dangerous job, if only because everyone was so high-strung and full of themselves _all the time._

Secretly relieved with the fact that no one seemed to notice his arrival, Fran snuck into the room, taking a seat on one of the more empty black lounge couches, clicking his heels together and resting his hands in his lap. His black frog hat, which he had found at his bedside when he woke that morning, was nestled securely on his head, tilted slightly to the side and casting half of his face in grey shadow. His outfit had been picked randomly with his eyes half closed, but Fran had to admit he looked rather good. He decked himself out in a simple dark green tee, dark blue skinny jeans and big, clunky black boots, which he was secretly very proud of – it had taken him a while to learn to walk in them, but now that he had the skill, he almost never went without them. He still had to thank Lussuria for taking him shopping after he had generally recovered that first week and a half of becoming a model. His wardrobe was much more extensive than it had been a month earlier.

He hadn't noticed the slim boy who sidled up in front of him until his jeering voice filled his ears. "Well, aren't you just adorable. You look like something the cat dragged in. You have absolutely _awful_ taste in style. I wouldn't hire you for all the money in the world."

Fran sighed silently and turned his attention to the purple twig in front of him. The scowl on the other man's face was his most prominent feature; besides that, Fran noticed that he had penciled in two upside down purple triangles onto his cheeks. Awful taste of style indeed. Fran had to admit, however, that it actually suited him. But you didn't hear that from him.

As far as clothing went, Mammon had gone all out. His black and white striped shirt was far too long for his body type, and hung somewhere around his knees in what Fran supposed was the 'in' style at the moment. From the little he could see of Mammon's pants, Fran thought that they also complemented him nicely; a simple black pair of silken slacks. For shoes, he was wearing a pair of glittery black pumps. Always pushing for the extra inch. His hair hung loose around his face, which, Fran was surprised to note, was still scowling down at him with distaste.

Fran rolled his eyes.

"You, Mammon, look like a mime. The purple triangles? Nice touch. The circus doesn't come to town until _next_ month. Thought you'd like to know."

He didn't see it coming, but he certainly felt the slap as Mammon's hand collided with his face. The sound of the contact travelled through the entire room, causing everyone to stop their conversation and glance up in surprise. Fran cupped his cheek, ignoring the already fading sting to glare blankly at the other man. Mammon's scowl still hadn't left his face. Against his better judgment, Fran spoke again.

"If you keep scowling at me like that, your face will freeze that way. How're you gonna model then?"

This time, he saw the slap coming. In a flash, Fran's hand had left his cheek and relocated on Mammon's wrist, securely stopping the purple haired model from coming into contact with his face again. Mammon made a sharp sound of surprise, trying to wrest his wrist free from Fran's grasp, but the teen wouldn't release him. Years of working in a bar had taught him a good deal on how to protect himself.

"I suggest you don't try that again."  
>Fran's voice lacked any and all emotion, but the deadpan was enough to make Mammon freeze, glancing quickly at the teen's face. He saw nothing but cold, emotionless features, and decided against any other form of resistance. He forced his wrist to go limp in Fran's grasp, and when Fran noticed this, he released the man instantly. He made cold eye contact with Mammon, however, locking him in place, rather like a bird freezes in the glance of a snake.<p>

"Listen, Mammon. I don't know what you're problem is with me, but I've had it with you. You've already witnessed the fact that I can out-talk you, outwit you, and out-play you in any game you want to try. So take my advice and walk away. I don't want to be drawn into your sick little game." He pushed himself into a standing position, smirking inwardly when he realized that even with the heels, he was a good three inches taller than Mammon. He patted the other man on the head in the most degrading manner possible and walked slowly out of the room, counting his paces as he went. There was no way Mammon would just take a hit like that and not –

Just as he thought, something came flying at his head. Fran ducked just in time, hearing the object shatter against the far wall. He turned around to face Mammon, who was panting slightly, the scowl on his face developing into sheer madness.

"You _bitch._"

Fran lifted his arms into a shrug, as if to say 'yeah, I know'. This only seemed to enrage Mammon more, and he took on threatening heel-clad step toward the teen.

Before anything else could happen, Fran's vision was filled with a whole lot of silver. Focusing his eyes on what was currently in front of his nose, he blanched noticeably. The tonfa that was two inches from his face was the real deal. If he moved, his face would be black and blue for a month. Trying to look around the mass of silver, he could see that Mammon was in a similar situation. Ignoring Mammon and focusing finally on the person _holding_ said tonfas, Fran got his first good look at the security around the mansion.

The man's straight, black as pitch hair was just long enough to fall in front of his eyes, casting a natural shadow over his pale features. His steel grey eyes were cold, calculating, and Fran suddenly got the sense that this man would have no qualms in killing them both on the spot. The realization sent a shiver down his spine, and he focused his gaze on the lush carpet at his feet.

"Would either of you care to explain?"

Even his voice sounded like ice. Fran suppressed another shiver, keeping his eyes glues to the floor. Mammon, too, remained silent. The lack of noise hung heavily on the room, lasting longer and longer with each passing second.

Finally, that awful voice came again. "No? Neither of you want's to explain what happened? I guess I'll have to bite you both to death…" He moved the tonfa slightly, leaving no doubt as to what he meant, and Fran shuddered, taking an infinitesimal step back. This didn't escape the notice of the man, and he retracted the weapon enough to face Fran full on. The teen felt very small next to his dominating aura, and shrunk in on himself. This man scared the everliving _shit_ out of him.

"You. You're new, aren't you, herbivore? Why don't you tell me what happened?"

Fran couldn't speak. He'd never been so scared in his life.

Thankfully, someone came to his rescue.

"Oya, oya, Hibari. What got your panties in a bunch? I think you need to calm down. Your making little Tsunayoshi worry again." Mukuro cast a glance over his shoulder at the brown haired man behind him, causing the now-scowling Hibari to look along with him. Tsuna was indeed biting his lip, a worried expression on his face, his big brown eyes lit up with a frantic light. He knew he couldn't stop Hibari, but he also cared for Fran's safety, and yes, even Mammon. He had to stop this, but he didn't know how. If it weren't for Mukuro, things would already be out of hand.

Mukuro caught Hibari's eye and smirked, his heterochromatic irises widening in a taunting expression before he smoothed his features out again to his calm normalcy. Hibari scowled deeper and lowered his tonfas, securing them behind his back and storming out of the room without another word. Mukuro chuckled softly and turned to face Tsuna once more, whose worried expression had relaxed into one of gratitude.

"There, Tsunayoshi-kun. Everything is taken care of."

Tsuna's silver-haired companion chose that moment to burst into the room, his eyes wide, seemingly ready to fight off an enemy.

"Tenth! Hibari just stormed out of here looking really pissed! What happened?" Tsuna scratched at his head, a goofy grin on his face.

"Everything's fine Gokudera. Mukuro took care of it."

_Ahh,_ Fran thought, _Gokudera. That's his name. _He didn't pay any attention to the argument that had ensued between Gokudera and Mukuro, but rather chose to sit back down on his couch and come to terms with the fact he had narrowly escaped death.

_Never again am I crossing blades with the man. Never again.  
><em>He was distracted by the distinct feel of something vibrating against his hip. Looking down in surprise, he searched around in his pocket until he grasped the vibrating device and pulled it into the light. His phone was lit up with a number that seemed vaguely familiar, so he accepted the call and lifted the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

_She she she…hello, frog. _

Fran's blood ran cold.

(Line break)

Bel's head ached, pounding in time with his rhythmically broken heartbeat. His cheek was pressed roughly into what felt like concrete, his silver crown digging into his scalp, causing little rivulets of blood to trickle down his face. His wrists were bound behind his back, his ankles tied together, and barely able to breathe around the gag stuffed in his mouth. His eyes were blindfolded, efficiently cutting off all of his senses but one; the one his captor wanted him to use.

"She she she…hello frog_._"There was a pause, and then the man giggled again. "I'm sure you remember me. How's your stomach?" Another pause, the man taking sick pleasure in the terrified silence at the other end of the line. Taking the phone away from his ear for a second, the blonde man cast a glance back at Bel, who remained silent and still, awaiting the next words. Giggling maniacally, Rasiel set the Bel's phone down on the concrete ground and pressed the speaker button. Fran's voice was suddenly broadcasted throughout the room.

_"Why do you have Bel-senpai's phone."_

Bel jerked at the sound of the teen's voice, his situation made all the more real by the slight, almost imperceptible tone of panic in the boy's voice. Anyone else would have missed it. Bel heard it, and his breath hitched in pain. A strange, beating, radiating pain that flowed from his chest to his fingertips, looping around his lungs, constricting them to the point of choking – a pain he had never experienced. As soon as it had come, it was gone.

"She she she…why, I can talk on my brother's phone if I want to, can I not? Che. You're not a very _smart_ frog, are you?"

Silence on the line. Rasiel frowned slightly, tapping his foot and shifting from side to side, impatiently waiting for the response the teen wasn't giving. His temper rising, the man reached down and clenched the phone in his hand, bringing the device right to his lips.

"I would start talking, boy. You wouldn't want anyone to get _hurt_, now would you?" As he spoke, Rasiel reached down again, this time grabbing a fistful of his brother's hair and yanking his head up by his golden locks. Bel's crown slipped into his face with the jostling motion, and finally slipping of his face entirely, clattering to the ground with a discordant sound.

The other end of the line crackled into life.

"_Don't hurt him."_

Rasiel grinned, releasing Bel without another thought and paced away, still holding the phone in his hand.

"I won't…if you come to the old church in town. Come alone, of course. She she she…see you~~~"

Rasiel cancelled the call, turned the phone off of speaker mode, and threw the phone across the floor, watching it skitter to a halt on the far side of the room. Pulling his own phone from his pocket, he dialed a new number and raised the device to his ear.

"It's done. He'll be here soon. Make sure he comes alone, boss. I still have bruises from a few days ago…she she…"

_Hmmmm? Is that a complaint, Rasiel-chan? _

Rasiel actually took a step back, retracing his steps quickly through his words. "N-no, of course it isn't. I'm just…stating."

_Well, keep your statements to yourself. The child is leaving now. He should be there in a half hour. Don't slip up this time, Rasiel. I wanted this family dead years ago. You failed then. Don't fail me again; I won't give you a third chance. _

"Yes, boss. I understand. I won't fail you. Not this time. She she she~"

He flipped the phone shut and slipped it back into his pocket. Turning to face Bel, Rasiel smirked, walking quietly over to where his twin lay, choking around the gag, struggling to be free of his bonds, and dropped to one knee, looking at the blonde in slight curiousity.

"Sorry, brother, but you're the means to an end. Once I kill the kid, we can pretend like none of this ever happened. No hard feelings. Well, no worse than before."

Patting his twin on the head in the most degrading manner he could muster, Rasiel swiftly stood and delivered a sharp kick to the other man's head, efficiently throwing him into unconsciousness.

"Doesn't mean I'm not enjoying this. By any means. She she she~~!"

(line break)

Sneaking out of the mansion a second time proved as easy for Fran as the first time. No one was paying attention as he slipped away from the main room, walking casually through the hallways, before sauntering carelessly right out the front door. It was when he was finally free of possible interruptions that he broke into a full out run, retracing his steps from days before, ignoring the twinges of pain along his torso. He couldn't let Bel get hurt.

It occurred to him that, seemingly overnight, the blonde was worth something to him. He didn't know when it happened, but he knew that if Bel was hurt now, he would never be able to forgive himself. Running through the trees, headed back to the nightmare of his past; he would do it all over again for this blonde.

It scared him.

(line break)

_"Momma, you're so pretty!"_

_The woman turned from her place in front of the mirror just to smile at the little boy on the bed. He couldn't have been more than six years old, little legs swinging of the edge of the massive king-sized bed he was placed on, plush comforters almost swallowing his small frame. He beamed up at his mother, smile covering his whole face. The woman felt the warmth of her own smile radiating throughout the room, and she turned reluctantly back to the mirror. _

_She would never admit it to herself, but the boy had spoken the truth. She was truly beautiful. Long, golden locks of shiny hair that fell in graceful curls around his shoulders. A pretty, semi-angular face without a blemish, coupled with warm, gentle eyes the color of earth, a kind of green-brown that was uniquely her own. She had the natural beauty that doesn't need to be accentuated by makeup. _

_Unseen by either of the blondes, a third figure was crouched in the shadow of the open door, an ugly aura radiating from his skin. He, too, seemed to be no more than six, but the envious darkness swirling around him made him seem that much older. _

"_Momma! You should wear the green one tonight! Papa would love it!"_

_The woman laughed, holding the sea green dress at arms-length, glancing at her son out of the corner of her eyes. "Oh, is that so? Did he tell you that?"_

_The boy shook his head brightly, smiling impossibly wider. "Nope! I just know!"_

_The woman patted the boy on the head, being sure not to upset the small silver crown that glistened in his hair._

_(line)_

"_Siel! Watcha doin?"_

_The other blonde looked up from his ministrations, quickly hiding what he was doing under a few leaves around him. Both twins were outside in the crisp fall air. Bel was amusing himself with the falling leaves, while Rasiel had snuck off into the corner of the massive front lawn to his secret actions. Now, he pocketed the silver lighter and stood up, turning to face his brother. _

"_Nothing. Is father home yet?"_

"_No, he's no supposed to be home for another hour. I can't believe he's coming home again! It's been so long! Four years, right?"_

_Rasiel made a noncommittal grunt of agreement, but Bel was already back to his childish games of catching falling leaves. Even though he was ten years old, his innocence was immense. He knew nothing of the real world. Rasiel tightened his grip on the silver device in his pocket and grinned. _

_(line)_

_ "Oi! What's going on, Siel? Why did you call me here? I have things to do you know!"_

_The blonde was impatiently tapping his fashionably clad foot at Rasiel's door, hands on hips and a scowl on his face. His bangs were just starting to grow in, and he had to flip his hair every few seconds in order to see clearly. Now that he was eleven, he began to show interest in modeling. He would try on everything in the stores on the rare occasion the twins were allowed outside the palace, much to Rasiel's horror. _

_ The slightly older twin smirked subtly before waving his hand at his brother. _

_ "Father wants you in his study. Said he wanted to talk to you. You better go."_

_ Bel was gone before he was finished speaking._

_ Rasiel flipped his blessed lighter into his hand and stole secretly after his twin. _

_(line)_

_ "Father? I'm here!"_

_ The study was empty, apart from the child and the huge amount of books around him. Looking around in confusion, Bel started to head back toward the door, but stopped in surprise when he saw his brother leaning against the doorway._

_ "Siel! I thought you said that father was here! Where is he?"_

_ Siel said nothing. Instead, he walked silently past his brother, tapping him on the shoulder as he passed. He disappeared into the depths of the study, as Bel stood in silent confusion. _

_ Minutes later, Rasiel returned, holding a book in the air for Bel to see. _

_ "Sorry, I lied. I just really wanted this book. Since you're the only one with the key to the study, I thought I'd let you open it for me. Thanks, brother. I appreciate it."_

_ Bel rolled his eyes, flipping his hair in irritation. "You could have just asked. I would have opened it for you anyway."_

_ "Oh, I know. This was more fun though. Ta."_

_ He walked slowly out of the room, closing the door behind him as he left. He slipped a padlock from his pocket and fastened the door handles together from the outside, snapping it into place. He lifted his lighter from his pocket and welded the sides together, ensuring that his brother was trapped for a good long time._

_ "By the way, brother; do you think you'll still be father's favorite when he hears you burned down his study?"_

_ There were a few beats of silence before Bel screamed, seeing the evidence of the fires Rasiel had set in the depths of the study, and ran up against the door._

_ "Siel! Let me out!"_

_ Rasiel laughed insanely, twirling his lighter around in his palm. "I don't think so, Momma's boy. How am I supposed to be king if you're the favorite? Well, you won't be the favorite anymore. If you live, that is."_

_ He strolled down the hall, whistling a cheery tune, as the study burned behind him. _

"Bel…your froggy savior hasn't shown up yet…I would _hate_ to have to kill you…you'd better hope he comes soon. Your life depends on it."

_Bel could hear the voices through the door._

_ "What are we going to do with him? He can't stay here. He's dangerous."_

_ "What on earth are you talking about? It was an accident! An accident! He's only eleven years old! How could he know that you had those documents there? He didn't do it on purpose!"_

_ "Silence, woman! Know your place!"_

_ "My place! I'm your damn wife, and queen of this country! I know my place very well! Don't you _dare_ tell me to be silent! I – "_

_ The sound of a slap echoed through the room. Bel flinched._

_ "I said, silence. The boy has to leave. He can't stay. He's a weak link, a disgrace. There are no second chances for a prince. He's always in public eye. Everyone knows. He. Must. Go."_

_ Bel cast his gaze to the ground, eyes hidden by his blonde bangs. He reached out and grabbed onto the first thing he could find, and ran down the hall in search of Siel._

_ When his parents exited from their argument, the only thing in the outer room was a silver platter, complete with food, drink, and utensils; all but the silver butter knife that was supposed to complete the set. _

_(line)_

_ "SIEL! WHERE ARE YOU?"_

_ The older twin glanced up from his book, flipping his lighter shut with a twist of his thumb, pocketing it in one smooth movement._

_ "You still here? I thought you would have left by now. You all packed?"_

_ Bel stood, furious, clenching the butter knife behind his back, glaring at his twin._

_ "How could you. You FRAMED me! This is all your fault!"_

_ "She she she…you're still upset about that? I did what I had to do to be king. You never would have had it in you to rule the country. You'll be thanking me later. Now you can follow your pointless modeling career and – "_

_ His next words were cut off when Bel tackled him to the floor. He held the knife to the other blonde's throat, an evil glint in his eyes._

_ "You betrayed me. You framed me. I'll never forgive you!"_

_ He slashed his brother across the face, drawing a thin, bloody line across his temple just as his parents ran into the room._

_ "Belphegor! What have you done?"_

"Oh, Bel! Look! Your knight in dripping wet armor is here. Guess it's raining out again."

Bel flinched as the blindfold was removed harshly from his face, blinking rapidly against his massive headache and the sudden influx of images in front of him. The first thing he saw was Fran, dripping wet, as Rasiel had said, his eyes as blank as usual. He was alone. As he had promised he would be.

"Hello, Rasiel. I've come to take my Senpai back, if you don't mind."

Rasiel stared at the small male in disbelief, arching one invisible eyebrow into his hairline. "That's all you got? Really? Pathetic. This isn't going to be fun at all."

Before Fran could respond, Rasiel was on top of him, leering down at him. He turned to speak over his shoulder, pitching his voice so Bel could hear.

"Oh, brother. Don't close your eyes. I want you to watch every minute of this."

As Rasiel turned back to face the boy he was pinning, he was surprised to see the teen's eyes alight with a smug gleam.

"Wha-"

"VOIII! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

Rasiel found himself flying through the air, having been kicked soundly in the ass by a heavy steel-toed boot. He crashed into one of the pews with a yell, cracking his head on the seasoned wood. As he blearily blinked his eyes, he came face to face with a pair of startlingly differently colored irises, both squinted into an evil smirk.

"Oya oya. Did you really think he'd come alone? Foolish boy. My student isn't that stupid."

(line break)

_"It's Fran. I need your help. Get out of the room you're in and tell me when you're alone. Please don't ask questions."_

Mukuro raised an eyebrow, but did as his former student said, and slinked slowly out of the room. He lifted the phone to his ear again and whispered into the receiver.

"Oya oya, little one; what's going on?"

"_I really can't talk. Bel's in trouble. Rasiel's got him. I need you to get Squalo and meet me down the block from the church you found me at a few days ago. He wants me, for some reason. He told me to come alone, but –"_

_ "_Kufufu…sounds like fun. I'll get the car and the loud annoying one and be right there."

"…_Why does this sound like something out of a bad mafia movie?"_

"Kufufu…you started it, not me."

(line)

A white haired model watched in hidden disgust as the quartet walked through the doors of the mansion, victorious with their spoils of war. Bel was had a massive headache, but otherwise, he was fine. No questions had been asked, and the group treated the whole experience as if it were a normal thing. Of course, he didn't care about the blonde. The one the model was most upset about was the little green one leading the way. He was still alive. He had ordered Rasiel to take care of him, twice now, and the man had failed him both times.

He felt his cellphone vibrate against his hip, and he answered it without looking at the caller ID, knowing instinctually who it was.

"You're fired, Rasiel. I'm feeling generous, so I'll give you a day to run. After that, you're dead."

He hung up and walked away without a word.

(line)

"…-pai. Bel-senpai. Bel-senpaiiiii. You need to get up now. No more sleeping."

Bel grumbled and rolled over, waving off the annoying voice with a lazy hand. His head hurt. He was a prince. He didn't have to-

The next thing he knew, a bucket load of freezing cold water was relieved above his head. The blonde say up, sputtering curses, and glaring evilly at the teen sitting next to him. He held and empty bucket in one hand and waved his finger of his other hand at the blonde.

"Senpaiiii. We have to go get dressed. Lussuria is waiting."

Bel stared stonily at the teen, debating whether he wanted to stab the teen to watch him bleed slowly to death, or if he wanted to stab the teen to hear him scream. As he debated, he twisted a knife around his fingers, sending the message very vividly to the other man. Fran rolled his eyes and grabbed Bel's wrist, hauling him out of bed with surprising strength.

"You can play sick later. Right now we have a competition to win. I wanna play dress up. Let's go."

Bel yanked his wrist from the teen's grasp, but one muted glare from the boy had him following closely behind, mumbling the whole way about how he was a prince, and he didn't have to follow orders. Fran ignored him as they came up to the Varia's dressing room, and opened the door.

Chaos is the wrong word to describe what greeted the two men. They were pulled instantly into a sea of clothes, made of a variety of different fabrics, and drowned in color. They couldn't tell what was human and what wasn't. Lussuria had managed to fit his entire arsenal of fashion into an already cramped room, and then filled it with all the members of their modeling group. There was hardly any space to breathe.

"Oi, Lussu. There are too many damn clothes in here. I'm a prince, I should be able to at least _move_." Lussuria ignored him in favor of throwing an outfit at him and ordering him out of the room.

"Go to the dressing room, Bel-chan. Now."

Fran raised an eyebrow at Lussuria's tone, which made Bel scurry off in the general direction that Lussuria was pointing without another word. But when the rainbow man turned to him with another garment in his hands, all the mirth left the teen's half-expression.

"You have got to be _fucking_ kidding me."

(Line)

The idea was simple. Each modeling team was given an outfit and a song to perform. If they embodied their character well enough, then they passed that stage and one a point. If they failed, they still continued on in the competition, but served as the laughing stock of the party for all eternity. It was a simple rule, but it worked well.

As the lights dimmed, the first group came onstage in the near darkness, their backs facing the group of models and random judges from local companies who came to watch the shows. The competition dew tons of attention from the big name brands, but that was only when it reached its final legs. Still, company representatives still came to watch the show – it was an easy source of entertainment.

The lights flared and the music began. The trio on stage all pivoted at the same time, following the music as they strutted to the front of the stage. At first, Fran, who was hovering backstage, didn't recognize the person in front, but as he identified the other people in the group, it clicked into place.

"Well, at least I'm not the only one."

Mukuro started the song, his deep voice carrying out over the crowd. He had dyed his hair a light lavender color for the gig, and it glimmered in the bright lights behind him. His outfit was fairly simple; a lone black jacket that was covered in feathers around the cuffs and lining, and brushed the floor of the stage, making whispering sounds and he moved. His feet were covered in large black boots that clunked when he walked, but added to the flair of the costume. He had fastened a few black feathers into his hair for good measure.

_The distorted, ordinary life, with a forbidden love, and a heart filled with deception._

The second male stepped forward, his own outfit swishing around him. He was dressed mostly in blue and black, his (dyed) dark blue hair accentuating his outfit nicely. He wore a kimono-esque robe, grey, with blue lining, and a tattered black kilt that hung around his waist. His shoes were simple, form fitting black slippers, and his eyes were accentuated with black eyeliner. He kept his eyes closed as he picked up the next line.

_Our imperfect love has been painted completely black in this ebony world…_

Fran visibly jumped as he recognized the voice of the tonfa-freak from earlier. Hibari something or other. Somehow, he was just as intimidating in a dress.

Finally, the last in the group stepped forward. If you looked hard enough, you could tell that it was Tsuna, but you had to get past the dress first. He was wearing a full out black ball gown, complete with poofy skirt and heels. He also had a bright red rose fastened to his chest and a black ribbon woven into his hair. Fran made a mental note to kill Lussuria for choosing vocaloid as the first modeling gig. It was way too embarrassing for the more feminine looking guys.

But then Tsuna opened his mouth, and his voice rang out high and clear over the audience, and they forgot he was wearing a dress.

_I've always wanted to say this to you, this one small phrase…if my uncontrollable impulse will end up being shattered. _

The other two joined in for what Fran assumed was the chorus, walking aroun to show off all angles of their get-ups.

_To love and be loved to the point of going mad, this sweet, burning kiss is an imitation. My paralyzed senses and failing consciousness paint my overflowing thoughts and the truth…completely in black. _

They ended their shows on a single note, and the lights went down. The audience erupted into applause as the next model came out onstage. The lights came up on Mammon, standing alone in his outfit, waiting for his music to start.

_The agitation with no release…The weight of this love…_

Surprisingly, Mammon was very low-key…as far as Mammon went. He sported a simple white tee with a few blue starburst designs on it. His pants were a pair of dark blue jeans, and his shoes were a simple pair of black sneakers. He wore a huge blue scarf around his neck, and a cheesy looking headset across his hair.

_I tried to yell out, but my voice is weak. No matter how much I try, it probably still won't reach you…_

He walked around the stage, staring at one fixed point the entire time, nearly tripping on a wire that ran across the stage. Blushing profusely, he lost his place in the song and stormed of stage in a huff of embarrassment.

Suddenly, Fran was pushed from behind, and he stumbled onto the stage. Bel was hopping on one foot, trying to keep him balance, apparently having the same problem as the teen was. They both came to a halt in the center of the stage, facing each other in surprise. Neither one had seen the other since that frantic instance in the dressing room, so the outfits were a complete surprise to both of them. Fran watched Bel's smirk get decisively wider as he took in the teen's outfit. Fran decided that Bel was going to be dunked head first into the nearest sink whenever he had a free moment.

Bel had a normal outfit on. It looked like a tuxedo, but was a deep scarlet, with long coattails and huge sleeves. He also had a puffy necktie, one of the ones with multiple layers that looked like a bit of cake frosting. His hair was pulled back into a little ponytail, but his bangs still covered his eyes. His crown was still in place on his forehead. Fran was surprised Lussuria let him get away with that one.

As the opening riffs to their song played over the speakers, Fran observed his own outfit with distaste. He had almost had an aneurysm when Lussuria had handed it to him. The large, fluffy ball gown had almost been to long for him, but Lussuria had somehow made it work. It was roughly the same color as his hair, and went along quite well with Bel's style of outfit. The bodice had to be drawn extremely tightly in order for the dress to actually stay on his body, so Fran had a little bit of difficulty moving. The nearly tripped while walking in his monstrous green heels multiple times, but Bel was always there to lend and arm. They sang Cantarella again, and when the lights dimmed, the audience cheered. Fran escaped quickly to the dressing room to change back into normal clothes, missing the final performance; due to the laughter from the audience, however, he guessed it didn't go well.

And then, the real party started.

(line)

There are really no words to describe a party full of drunk models. It's just one of those things that will never be able to be put into words. Fran gazed around incredulously at the swirling mass of people around him, sitting quietly at the bar and sipping his goddamn milk. Lussuria wouldn't let him drink, even though the rainbow man was already plastered. Fran didn't miss the irony in that.

The opening beats of _Blackout_ sang across the room, and the dancing switch to more provocative moves. Fran blushed into his milk and concentrated on not choking as he swallowed.

"Heeeeeyyy, girly, wanna dance?"

A very drunk, very ugly male sidled up to him at the bar. He stank of alcohol, and his too-white doctor's smock made him seem even more pervy that he was coming across as. Which was pretty damn perverted.

"Sorry, sir, I don't dance. Fuck off."

"Oh, I love it when they deny me! Name's Shamal. Dr. Shamal. C'mon, just one dance-"

He was cut short by the murderous aura behind him. Shamal turned and leapt back in terror as Bel walked toward him, fingering a knife in his palm.

"Firstly, Shamal, that's a guy. Secondly, he's mine. So back off. Shi shi shi…"

Shamal booked it out of Bel's knife throwing range with a very girly yell. Bel giggled in his insane way and glance over at Fran who was still calmly sipping his milk and ignoring the dancing around him.

"So, you don't dance, huh?"

Fran looked around him briefly before hiding his nose in his milk. "Not like that, I don't."

Bel paused for a beat before grinning, and grabbed the teen by the wrist to pull him onto the dance floor.

"Bel-senpai! Let me go."

"Shi shi shi…no. Ima dance with my froggy."

Fran tried to ignore the way his heart stuttered when Bel said _his_ froggy.

Bel pulled him flush up against his body, aligning their bodies together before swaying his hips gently to the music. They were off tempo with everyone else, but Bel didn't seem to care. It was as if he was dancing to his heartbeat, rather than the music itself. Fran gave up on struggling and followed suit, swaying his hips back and forth in time with Bel's.

It wasn't long before Bel leaned in closer, grinning.

"This is boring. Shi shi shi…you're a very good dancer. Let's kick it up a notch."

As if on cue, the song changed; Madonna's _Revolver_ boomer over the speakers, and Bel spun the teen around rapidly as the moved even further into the crowd. He released Fran, walking slowly around him as the opening lyrics started. He grabbed the boy's waist and guided him into the steps, shuffling from side to side and throwing him into another spin. Fran simply relaxed his body and let Bel lead him. Somehow, their bodies fit together with his back against Bel's chest, their hips moving in time with the beat. Bel's voice whispered in his ear as the chorus came in.

_"Line 'em up, knock 'em down, if looks could kill oh eh oh. You're an accessory to murder cuz…"_

Fran gave in. He gave up on being reserved, gave up on emotionless for the first time in years. He turned around to face Bel with the sexiest smirk he could muster. He clasped his hands behind the blonde's neck and rotated his hips, grinding lightly against the other male. Bel gasped, grabbing onto Fran's waist again, pulling him closer than before.

"Shi shi shi…I thought you couldn't dance?"

Fran raised an eyebrow and released the blonde, sidling behind him and grabbing hiss waist from the back, standing on tiptoe to whisper in his ear.

"I worked in a club. I know what I'm doing."

Bel had turned around without him noticing. They were completely sill on the dance floor, oblivious to the people moving around them. Wordlessly, the both leaned in at the same time, the final riffs of the song echoing into silence. Their lips met as the final note rang out, and Fran promptly forgot everything. All that existed was the feel of his senpai's lips finally, finally moving with his. His eyes slipped closed, and he pulled the man closer, swaying to a new, unknown beat as they both rose into sweet oblivion.

Bel pulled away first, trying to gauge to younger male's reaction in the dim lighting. Fran's eyes were glazed over, a small smile on his face.

"Froggy…I…"

Fran's finger was on his lips.

"I know, senpai. Don't say it yet. Not yet. Let's dance."

Bel nodded his understanding, smirked darkly and ground his hips harshly against the younger male. Fran let out an audible gasp at the movement.

"Shi shi shi…okay, Frog. Let's dance."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/n: Right. Okay. So before you all kill me…Merry (day after) Christmas! Or Happy Holidays, for those of you who don't celebrate Christmas. This took me two months to write…I'm terribly sorry about that…but I lost the plot for a bit and completely lost my inspiration. (I'm such an awful person….) But I'm back, and I have a story again. So don't hate me too much…**

**Also, for those of you who got the City of Bones reference in the previous chapter, that line belongs to Cassandra Clare, not me. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or the characters involved. I just write crazy stories. I also don't encourage underaged drinking (which you will see briefly in this chapter), but hey. I don't control my characters. **

**P.S: Fran is 17, going on 18. Bel is 22. **

**So without further ado, ladies and gents: Chapter 8 (finally)**

Fran groaned and rolled over in his bed, praying that it wasn't as bright in his room as it seemed to be, that he was just imagining it. Prying his eyes open, he cursed quietly when he realized, yes, it _was_ quite bright in his room. Mainly because his drapes weren't closed. When did that happen?

His head was pounding. His mouth tasted like sand, and was dryer than dirt. He was slowly waking up to a pounding headache, and why was it so damn _bright_ in his room!

Another moan of pain slipped through his lips, and he lurched into a sitting position. He gagged, holding his hands over his mouth in an effort not to be sick. He settled carefully back into his pillows, trying not to upset his already roiling stomach.

_Okay, so movement equals nausea. Note to self. What the hell?_

"Oi. Frog. You up?"

Bel's voice, which was annoying under normal circumstances, seemed to be raised to inhuman decibel levels this morning. Fran screeched and flipped a pillow over his head, trying to block out the ungodly noise.

"Belphegor. Please, lower your voice. I'm lying right here. No. Need. To. Shout."

Bel was silent for a few beats before chuckling. He padded over to where Fran was bundled up in pillows and blankets, setting the glass of water he was holding onto the dresser, and situating himself on the edge of the teen's bed. He tried to pry the pillow from Fran's unyielding fingers, but the teen just cursed at him and refused to give it up. He muttered something about sunlight and drapes, causing Bel to raise an unseen eyebrow and saunter over to the window. He yanked the drapes closed, effectively casting the room into shadow.

Fran sighed in relief and let the pillow fall from his face. Wonderful darkness greeted him when he opened his eyes, finally able to blink the tears from his eyes and focus his gaze on the room in front of him. However, the onslaught of images made his headache that much worse. Fran decided quickly that keeping his eyes closed was the best bet.

"You, Frog, are _very_ hungover. Welcome to the world of 'oh, shit, I drank way too much last night'. Which is hilarious, because you only had three drinks."

Bel's words didn't make sense to the teen. Drinking? He didn't drink. Alcohol was disgusting. He opened his eyes in favor of glaring at the blonde not-prince, but the reflections bouncing off his crown made his head hurt, so he closed his eyes once more.

"I don't drink. You're a liar. Go away."

"Shi shi shi…fine, don't believe me. But ask anyone else. They all saw you. Maybe a few more minutes alone will jog your memory. See you downstairs…if you can make it out of bed."

He exited the room with a maniac laugh, kicking the door for good measure. Fran huffed and burrowed underneath the covers, slipping into troubled slumber in order to relieve the pounding in his head.

_Hungover, my ass…_

(line)

_"Shi shi shi; oi, Frog, I thought you said you couldn't dance?"_

_ They were both panting a little, as the music faded out for a few brief seconds. Fran raised an eyebrow, the first real expression Bel had ever seen on his face, and leaned in close. _

_ "I can dance. I just never find a reason to."_

_ Bel chuckled at the answer and led them off to the bar, which was surprisingly vacant; although when taking Xanxus' habits into consideration, you can't really blame the other models for not wanting to be anywhere near the man. Because of Xanxus, the only people who were sitting at the bar were the demon himself, Reborn, and the white haired man that always seemed to be lurking everywhere. Bel's lips curled into a sneer when he saw him. Byakuran._

_ "Oi, Froggy, let's go somewhere…else."_

_ Fran shot him a disbelieving look and sat down on an open stool, right next to the white haired wonder. He didn't notice the asshole sitting next to him, and also didn't notice his piercing gaze as his eyes raked along Fran's feminine figure. The teen simply waved to the blonde behind the counter, who had a lollipop stick hanging out of his mouth, and motioned him to come over and take his order._

_ "Can I have a diet coke, please? Oh, and a Prince of Wales for the blonde with the tiara." Fran's voice was back to its monotone, but Bel could hear the underlying smirk in it. He raised an unseen eyebrow, sliding into the seat next to the teen with a smirk of his own. "Since when do you know alcohol?"_

_ Fran shot him a withering look. "Please. I worked at a bar for seven years. Don't patronize me." The bartender returned remarkably quickly with their drinks, and Fran nodded his appreciation before turning back to his companion. "Besides, it's what you ordered the night we met. You know, the drink you spilled all over me when you bled me out on the floor. Remember?" He took a long sip of his diet coke before setting it down on the counter behind him. Bel, at least, had the grace to look embarrassed. Or whatever passed for embarrassed with the blonde prince. _

_ "Shi….well, you're alive, so stop complaining. Blood builds character, you know." Bel nodded knowingly, pretending he wasn't totally pulling this shit from his ass. Fran shot him a stare that made Bel's heart skip a beat due to its intensity, and the blonde swiftly downed his drink._

…The fuck. I'm not some stupid schoolgirl. Get a hold of yourself, Bel.

_He signaled the bartender for another one and set his glass on the counter with a dull clink. He shot Fran a sideways glance, his lips curving into a sadistic smile. "Oi, Frog. You ever try an Orgasm?" Just as predicted, the teen choked on the diet coke he'd just accidentally inhaled and turned beet red. "Excuse me? What did you just say?" Struggling to keep his composure, Fran wiped his features clean of any hint of surprise or embarrassment. He turned away from the blonde and took a few deep breaths, noticing as the white-haired man covered a smirk with his hand. Great. Another asshat. Just what he needed. _

_ "Shi shi shi…silly Frog. Were you thinking of something else? It's a drink. S'got brandy in it. Wanna try?" The drink in question, which had somehow already been made up, was pushed toward him slowly, teasingly, seemingly innocent despite its name and contents. Fran shot Bel a glare that spoke volumes. _

_ "Belphegor. I'm underage."_

_ Bel rolled his eyes. "You're also a model, surrounded on all sides by high strung adolescents, and the youngest here. C'mon, Froggy, just try it. It's a rite of passage. No one will judge you. Better here than somewhere with no one to take care of you, right?" The drink was pushed a couple more inches toward him. His white-haired neighbor was now also watching with interest. _

_ Fran never took his eyes off of Bel as he reached for the glass and raised it to his lips. The acrid smell of alcohol burned his nostrils, and he wrinkled his nose in distaste. He steeled himself and downed the glass._

_ It took everything he had not to spit it back up again. He sent the glass flying down the counter in an effort to get it away from him, and clutched his burning throat with both hands. Bel nearly fell off his stool laughing. _

_ "You…bastard…"_

(line break)

"Voi. Xanxus. You up?"

Squalo's normally obnoxiously loud voice was muted, in the hope that he wouldn't get something hard, heavy, and permanently brain damaging thrown at his head. Treading quietly around the large bed in the center of the room, Squalo watched the lump in the covers move up and down rhythmically, showing that no, Xanxus was _not_ up yet. He was still asleep.

All the better. He would have a hell of a hangover when he woke up.

Squalo sighed softly and sat on the edge of the bed, setting the glass of water he had in his hand on the bedside table and observing the sleeping man beside him. His face was completely hidden by the covers, so only the top part of his unruly black hair showed. Squalo leaned over combing his fingers through the small bit of hair absentmindedly, as if he didn't realize what he was doing.

When Xanxus shifted, Squalo jerked away, jumping off the bed and stumbling toward the door in a panic. He stopped short of the doorjamb, looking back over his shoulder with a pained glance. Xanxus had returned to his immobile state, still asleep. Still oblivious. Squalo laughed softly, mockingly, holding a hand up to his face to rub the anger out of his eyes. The same hand that had run through his love's hair; Xanxus' scent permeated through his senses, calming him down enough to turn and walk out the door, remembering to shut it behind him.

His love was deeper than Xanxus thought. He would honestly die for the man asleep in the other room, hungover out of his mind, and oblivious. Completely oblivious. He wasn't one for soft feelings or kind words. It was all sex, all alcohol. Nothing more. Squalo was nothing more. He hissed in anger, slamming a nearby wall with his fist and stalking down the hall, trying to escape his own sordid thoughts.

Back in the bedroom, Xanxus shifted and sat up. His head pounded behind his ears, but his only focus was on the closed door, and the retreating steps of the one person he didn't mind seeing at the moment. He glanced at the glass of water on the table, smirked, and settled back into the pillows, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the light.

_You might want to be more subtle, trash. I can read you like a book._

(line break)

When Fran stumbled down the grand stair some hours later, the house was abnormally silent. Soft music was drifting from one of the inner room, and Lussuria's nasal voice could be heard throughout the entire house. He was haggling some poor producer about the next available gig. Poor man. But otherwise, the house was quiet. Fran felt the urge to whisper, and tiptoe his way around, lest he break the eerie spell and bring all the nauseating noise back.

He walked back to the room where everyone had gathered in the days before and peeked his head in. Some of the models were in the room, typing diligently on their computers, humming away to music, or plucking out notes from their guitars and pianos. Tsuna, he noticed, played the piano especially well. Mukuro was leaning over him from behind, watching the younger man's hands fly across the keys. He had a glazed look in his eyes, far off and unfocused. Tsuna's eyes were closed, but he had a small smile on his face. Fran found himself fighting down a blush, as if he had walked in on a private moment, and redirected his attention.

The man from the night before, Byakuran, was seated on the windowsill, gazing out of the glass as a petite blue-haired girl vied for his attention. Fran thought back to Bel's comment about how he was the youngest here, and wondered if he had met this girl. She looked about thirteen. Sitting in a chair across from the window, Reborn was reading a book about the Italian mafia. He looked up briefly to meet Fran's inquisitor glance, and the teen immediately looked away. Something about the man's cool, flat gaze unnerved him. There were a few other models spotted throughout the room, but Fran didn't recognize them at all. He noted with relief that Mammon wasn't among them.

The piano music dwindled to a stop, and Fran looked over at the instrument again. Tsuna was getting up slowly, mumbling an excuse about paperwork; his small smile was still intact, as was Mukuro's slightly dazed look, and they parted ways without another word. Mukuro's gaze followed Tsuna out of the room, through the door that Fran was standing awkwardly in, which caused the older man's eyes to spark to life once more.

"Little one! I didn't notice you were here. You look stunning today." His red eye dipped into a wink, causing Fran to sputter slightly, and look down at his apparel to hide his blush.

"Er…thank you."

He was wearing one of the shirts he had picked out of Mammon's closet a while ago. It was the red one that slung off one shoulder, exposing a good amount of his skin. Its long sleeves expanded toward the wrists, which allowed him a ton of moving space. To accompany the shirt, he wore a pair of deep black jeans that bunched around his ankles. He was barefoot. The ever present hat was nestled securely on his head, and his light green hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck.

Mukuro smirked, and walked over to where the teen was still digesting his compliment. He slung an arm around Fran's shoulder and gestured to the piano.

"Do you play?"

"What, me? No. Music isn't my strongpoint."

Mukuro shrugged and removed his arm from the boy, looking him over once before speaking. "You know, you make a very excellent model. It's a shame you haven't done more gigs. You've only done one professional modeling job, right?" Fran nodded once, not knowing where his former teacher was going with this. Mukuro sighed. "Such a waste. You know, if you changed agencies, you might get more modeling time…"

Fran blinked, surprised. Did he just…?

"I'm thinking of branching out. Starting my own business. I already have three…no, four models. You would be the perfect addition. Please, consider what it would mean for you. You would be modeling two, no, three times a week. You'd become famous in no time, with your skills. We could rise to the top in a matter of months. I understand what it's like to be ignored, and unappreciated. I wouldn't do that to you." His eyes gleam brightly, a bitter light shining from the inside. Fran paused his frantic thinking to wonder what had happened to Mukuro to make him like this. He didn't remember him being so closed in and upset.

Thinking over the man's offer, Fran knew immediately what his answer would be; he pretending to think however, in an effort to not hurt Mukuro's already kind of unstable emotions.

"Look…Mukuro-san. Thank you very much for the offer, but I enjoy my life with the Varia. They're dysfunctional, but they're almost family. Plus, I've only been a model for what…a month or so? It's obvious that I'm not going to get all the good gigs right away. I have to be patient, just like everyone else. So thank you, but no thank you. I wish you the best of luck with your agency. I'll see you at the top."

Fran exited the room without another word, searching again for an explanation as to the silence of the household. He didn't look back, and Mukuro turned away from his former pupil with the same sentiment.

(Line break)

"…Is that the answer you wanted?"

His voice was soft, deceivingly gentle, but it caused Mukuro to tense anyway. He turned toward the window, where Byakuran was lounging, his glacial lavender gaze focused on the other man. His companion was asleep at his feet, her dark blue hair spread out across the floor. Byakuran didn't even look at her as he leapt off the windowsill, landing without a sound a few feet away from Mukuro. He flicked his eyes around the now empty room before setting his gaze once again on the blue haired man, pacing slowly toward his with his hands in the pockets of his white hoodie.

"You see, Mukuro-kun, when I said 'ask him to join you', I didn't really mean ask~ I meant _make_ him join you, no matter what it takes." Byakuran paused in his pacing, smiling innocently at Mukuro, who was scowling darkly, unable to move to walk away. "Whatever previous feelings you harbored for the boy, get rid of them. They aren't important. What's important is that you get him away from the Varia. I don't care what you have to do. Hurt someone. Hurt him. I don't care. Just get him for me, and you can go. You and your little Tsunayoshi Sawada can live on in peace. But…perhaps you need a reminder of the stakes we're gambling here?" Byakuran laughed happily, raising a hand and starting to count off. "First, your precious Tsunayoshi. If you fail, he's mine. Second, your life here as a model. When Tsunayoshi disappears, you will take over. Your fellow models know of your ambition to be on top; you'll be blamed for kidnapping, murder, because all you want is to be in control. Third, I'll get Fran-kun anyway. I'll kill the entire group if I have to. He's the last one; the rest of his family is taken care of, but I need him too, or my revenge won't be complete. We understand each other, ne~?"

Mukuro forced himself to nod, unable to speak through his cold rage. Byakuran chuckled and turned away. "I thought so. Well, you know what to do. See you~" He walked out of the room, his one hand still raised, three fingers saluting Mukuro in a mocking wave.

(line break)

"_Ne, Momma, why is Father never home?"_

_ The woman looked up from her book, surprise showing in her eyes. Her pale green hair was loose around her shoulders, revealing just how young she really was. Her six year old son was sitting at her feet, unanswered questions filling his eyes. His green hair was short, spiking a little and stopping around his ears. His face was set, determined to get an answer, and the woman sighed quietly, smiling at the boy and putting the book aside. She opened her arms, and the boy immediately climbed into her embrace._

_ "Your father works all the time, Fran. He's the owner of a very big company, and he needs to make sure everything is working properly, all the time. In order to do that, he has to be away from home a lot." Her eyes brimmed with tears at the thought of her husband, but she blinked them away._

_ "So…he's not mad at me?"_

_ "Fran! Of course he's not mad at you! Why would you think that?"_

_ The boy shifted uncomfortably in her arms. "Well…some kids at school were talking. They said that if your daddy goes away a lot, it means he doesn't like you. It's not true, right? Father still likes me, right?" His eyes were wide, scared, and his little hands were bunched into fists. The woman sighed quietly, grasping her son's hands and unclenching his fists. _

_ "Your father loves you, Fran. Never doubt that. Remember, he's out working so that one day, you can own his company. When you get older, he'll teach you how to take care of it like he does, and then he can be home more. Okay?"_

_ Fran nodded, fat tears running down his face. He sniffled quietly, trying to hide it, and his mother laughed, her own tears escaping their prison. She wiped them away discretely, not wanting to upset the boy on her lap even more with her tears. _

_ Later that night, she got a call from her husband, saying he needed to postpone his visit home for a while longer. Something had come up with one of the employees, and required his immediate attention. She nodded, gave him expression of love, and told him to come home soon. Fran never knew that his father was supposed to come home that night, and just kept on with his worrying, and wanting, falling asleep to the sound of his mother's tears. _

(line)

Fran slammed the refrigerator door shut in distaste, both from his sudden childhood memory, and the fact he couldn't find any food. The fridge drawers were _locked_. Who locks their fridge? The teen leaned up against the counter with a sigh, rubbing his now-healed arm, trying to force away the ache that had settled in it sometime during the night.

Being so close to his past life apparently made memories he didn't know he had come to the surface of his mind. He had forgotten his father was the CEO of some huge company. He didn't even remember what it was called, he had never known. All he knew is that his father was never home, and his mother raised him perfectly for nine years.

And then it ended.

Shrugging away from the counter, Fran walked quickly through the mansion, peeking into every room he could, searching rapidly for the one thing he hadn't seen yet in this mansion. The doors all looked the same, the rooms all identical, in structure and in the fact they were all void of what he needed. Feeling slightly irritated, Fran ran up to the second floor, listening at the doors for any breathing on the other end, peeking his head in and shutting the door again almost immediately. All that was here was bedrooms.

He opened one final door and froze, cursing his bad luck. Bel looked up from where he was sitting on his bed, his face showing no surprise at the intruder. He was wearing causal clothes, like Fran; dark blue jeans, no socks, a deep red hoodie, and his ever present crown. Fran started to mumble an apology, backing slowly out of the room, but the sight of the shiny silver device next to the man stopped him.

"Frog. What do you want?"

Fran paused, contemplating whether or not he should answer honestly. Sighing, he lifted his gaze to face Bel and blurted out his response.

"You don't mind if I use your computer, do you?"

Bel raised his unseen eyebrows into his bangs. Why would the frog need a computer? But it was apparent that he wasn't going to get an explanation from the teen. Bel shrugged, reaching behind him to grasp his laptop and gestured to Fran to come over. Blinking rapidly in surprise, the teen walked cautiously over to Bel's bed, while the blonde opened the machine and tapped a few keys. He handed it over without complaint.

"Here. Just don't break it. Shi shi shi~"

Fran resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he took the laptop and sat on the bed next to Bel, settling the machine on his knees. He began to search his companion's desktop for any kind of web browser the not-prince might have. He smiled internally when he saw that he had Google Chrome. It was one of the fastest browsers in existence, and the one he knew how to use the best. He opened the page and began his search.

The first thing he did was google his name.

_Fran Sachi_

The first thing that came up was the news article, created almost nine years ago, about his strange disappearance after his parent's death. He felt Bel stiffen besides him, but ignored the other man. Reading through the article, he almost immediately found the information he was looking for.

"…_son of the CEO of world-renowned relations company, CEDEF. CEDEF works mainly with tumultuous situations concerning high power organizations, working out peace negotiations and keeping the power struggles to a minimum. Now that the heir to the company is missing, little is known of what will become of the company."_

X-ing out of the page, he returned to google, now searching for stories concerning himself. Multiple hits came up. Fran clicked on a few, but they were mostly tabloids, saying someone said they saw him in some store, or walking in the park. He quitted the search immediately. He searched instead for CEDEF, scrolling through the websites without much though. One headline caught his eye, toward the bottom of the page.

"CEDEF CEO Murderer Escapes Prison. Civilians, Be Cautious."

Fran's blood ran cold. He clicked on the link, tapping his fingers impatiently on the keyboard as he waited for the page to load. Finally, a newspaper article filled the computer screen, accompanied by a color picture of the murderer. Fran finally got to see the face of his parent's murderer. He brought the screen closer to his face, not believing what he was seeing.

The tattoo was on the wrong side. The hair was the wrong color, and way too long. But the resemblance was undeniable.

He was staring at a picture of Byakuran.

Fran shut the computer without ceremony, handing it silently back to Bel and launching himself off the bed, stalking toward the window and gazing at the black spire of the church in the distance. He couldn't believe it. It was too corny, too cheesy, too improbable. He had to be wrong. He had to be.

His hands were clenched into tight fists. He was vaguely aware that he was shaking violently, but he didn't care, or do anything to stop it. He just stared at the church spire and tried to sort through his clamoring thoughts.

Hands on his shoulders caused him to tense up, and the feeling of another person's breath at his cheek didn't help.

"Fran. Talk to me."

The sound of his name, his real name, coming from those lips caused him to do a double take. He shook his head.

"Since when are you my shrink? Why do you care?"

Bel was silent. The only indication he had heard was his grip on Fran's shoulders tightened slightly. The pair fell into an awkward silence, both staring out the window, their own thoughts kept secret, safe inside their minds.

"I lived here once. For nine years of my life. My parents were murdered at the church you see in the distance, the one you found me at last week. I was nine. They were dead. Mukuro tried to take me in, but I left. If I hadn't met you, I wouldn't have ever come back."

Bel stayed silent, choosing to rub the teen's still shaking shoulders rather than say anything that might stop Fran's explanation.

"My father was the CEO of some big company. I never knew what it was back then, all I knew was that he was never home. My mother raised me. She was there when I first met Mukuro. He was a street magician. I needed a friend. He offered me lessons, and I took them. I was eight, then. For a whole year, I followed him around and learned little magic tricks. One day, we were in the woods, where no one would bother us during our lesson. We stopped early, because my father was home for once, and we were going on a family picnic in the park."

The teen fell silent again, the memory of that day washing over him. He wasn't even aware he was speaking out loud anymore.

"When we got to the church, my parents were on the ground. I ran over to them, and tried to get them to wake up. Then the smell of what I was kneeling in washed over me, and I looked down to see the blood. It was everywhere, all over me. You would have thought I was the one to get shot, not them. I was covered in it."

"I ran away. Mukuro had tried to care for me, but I was already gone. I ran to the next town over. I stole a lot, slept outside, and just kept running. It got to the point where I had no idea what town I was in, and didn't really care. I joined a gang for a while, the Kokuyo Gang. Ken, Chikusa, and M.M. weren't kind to me, but they weren't awful either. I stayed with them for two years. When I realized Mukuro was the leader of the group, I ran again. Got a job at a bar and worked there for almost seven years. Then you barged in and mauled me beyond recognition, and here I am. I'm the only heir to the world's largest negotiations business, my parents' murderer is in the same house as me, and someone wants me dead, probably the murderer, who is probably Byakuran. Or am I supposed to believe that being mauled and kidnapped was just a coincidence?"

He was shaking violently again. Bel didn't know what to do. He was the one usually inflicting pain, not trying to heal it.

"…Do you want to leave?"

Fran blinked at the question, not quite understanding.

"Leave what?"

"Leave. The mansion. The competition. The Varia. Do you want to leave?"

Fran grew silent, gaze still locked on the church spire in the distance. Did he want to leave? He was a part of the most dysfunctional group of people he had ever met. He should leave. But…

"If Byakuran sees me go, he'll follow me. And I won't have the advantage of having tons of people around to protect me. I'll probably die alone in a gutter on the side of a road if I leave now. Besides, I want to kill the bastard myself."

Bel said nothing, just kept rubbing the teen's shoulders. The shaking was finally dying down.

"My bet is he wants the company. The only way for him to even begin to obtain it is if he gets rid of the rightful heir. That's me. It's the middle of November now. In three months, I'll be eighteen. He has three months to kill me before I can legally take over the company. He's already tried twice in the past week. How am I supposed to survive three more months?"

He was hyperventilating, and his splitting headache had returned with a passion. His emotionless mask was long gone. Fran hadn't felt this helpless and scared since that day eight years ago, in front of the church. He was so out of it, that he didn't even realize where he was in space, so when Bel roughly jerked him around, he nearly lost his balance. He met Bel's concealed gaze with foggy, dazed eyes, staring at him with the same lost, angry expression he had used to stare at the church spire.

"Listen, Frog. We'll help you. Me, the Varia, we'll keep you safe. You're right, if you leave now, you're dead. But if you stay here, we can catch him, and keep you safe. Understand? We'll take care of you, okay? Oi, Fran! Okay?"

Again, the sound of his name in Bel's voice startled the teen, clearing his head just enough for him to nod in agreement, and slump, exhausted, into Bel's arms. The blonde tensed, unsure of what to do yet again, and opted to lift the boy into his arms and carry him, bridal style, to the bed. The teen was asleep before he even touched the covers, having lost consciousness from all the stress. Bel straightened up and flipped his phone out of his pocket, speed dialing the first person he could think of.

"Lussu. I need you to call a group meeting.

_Whaaaat? But I'm busy!_

"I don't _care_, Lussuria. Do it, and meet me in my room."

_But Bel-chan, I really am…_

" Lussuria! Don't fuck around! This is more important than whatever you're doing right now! …It's about Fran."

…

"….What?"

_It's just…_

"What, Lussuria?"

_I've never heard you use his name before._

"…Shut up. Get it done."

He slammed his phone shut and threw it across the room, feeling a sick satisfaction when he heard it clatter across the floor.

(line)

"Well, prince-trash? What do you want?"

They were all there, remarkably. Lussuria had placed three frantic phone calls just minutes before, and the group rushed to the meeting, only to find Fran safely asleep in Bel's bed, and the blonde prince wearing a rut into the carpet with his pacing.

The blonde stopped moving when Xanxus spoke, turning to face the group and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Ever wonder about who the frog really is?" He was careful not to use the kid's name again, since Lussuria was watching him like a hawk. The whole group shifted from side to side, looking away from Bel and mumbling their answers. So the answer was yes. They all did.

"Well, I just found out. Remember that murder story from eight years ago? We were all in highschool. Freshman year. It was all over the news. The CEO of CEDEF and his wife were murdered, the murderer captured and the son gone. Well, guess who showed up again eight years later?" He gestured to the unconscious boy, his gaze on the group standing in front of him. They all looked genuinely surprised.

"Vrait…you know…now that you mention it…he does look a lot like his father…"

"And his name is Fran…just like the kid…" Lussuria mumbled to himself, trying to figure out the rest of the name "Fran…Soochi? Softie? Santi?"

"Sachi. Fran Sachi."

The attention was turned back to Bel at the sound of his voice.

"There wouldn't be a problem if that was the end. Fran's the heir to CEDEF. Big deal. The real problem is his parents' murderer got loose a few years back. Looks like this." He flipped open his computer, waited for it to load, and showed the models the picture Fran had freaked out about. The whole group started to mutter when they made the connection.

"We don't have proof that it's him, though. How do we know the kid isn't just making this all up?" Everyone turned to look at Levi with a disbelieving look, and then proceeded to ignore the man altogether.

"The frog thinks that Byakuran is after the company. I agree. The kid turns eighteen in three months, to the day. Byakuran has already made two attempts to kill him, and it's only been a week. He's going a little bit insane with worry. Shi shi…" The laugh at the end of the statement was nervous, jittery, something Bel had never experienced before. "So…just keep an eye out for him. I guess. Okay, I'm done. Bye bii~"

He turned away, not wanting to face the group any longer. He couldn't explain why he felt the need to protect the kid passed out in his bed, but the urge wasn't controllable. It was there, and not going away.

It unnerved him.

(line)

In the midst of it all, the next competition was scheduled to happen that night. Lussuria told Bel about it before the models left his room, instructing him to be in the main room at 5:00 p.m., with Fran in tow. Then they left, saving their whispers for once they got out of the prince's range of hearing.

The blonde sat on the edge of his bed, observing the boy next to him. His face was finally smoothed out, back to its usual emotionless mask. Bel didn't know if he should be relieved, or upset that Fran was once again hiding his emotions, even if it was in his sleep.

When Fran awoke, Bel was sitting on his windowsill, headphones covering his ears, and his head resting against the glass. Fran would have sworn he was asleep, but the instant he started to get out of bed, Bel turned his face toward him, taking the headphones off and cancelling the music on his ipod.

"You have a while yet. We aren't supposed to be downstairs for another twenty minutes."

Fran looked at him, his blank face showing no emotion. Bel winced inwardly.

"Downstairs…for what?"

"The next competition. Lussuria is announcing it at five, and then we're performing at seven. Sounds like everyone is up this time. Shi shi…are you…up for it?" There was the nervous laugh again. Why?

If Fran noticed, he didn't say anything. "Yeah. I'll be fine. Better to seem like nothing's wrong, right?" He sighed and swung out of bed, his bare feet landing silently on the carpet. He undid the tie that kept his hair back, and removed his hat, letting his hair fall around his face. He put the hat back on and snapped the tie around his wrist.

"Might as well go down now. Say, you don't happen to have the keys to the fridge, do you?"

"…The fridge is locked? Who locks a fridge?"

"My thoughts exactly. I'll take that as a no, then."

"Shi shi shi…good guess, Fra –"

He sputtered to a stop, choking on his next word. The teen looked at him, hiding his surprise behind his still-recovering mask of indifference. Did he almost just…?

"I mean…yeah. Let's go downstairs. They're probably all waiting anyway. Shi shi shi." He brushed past the immobile teen without a glance, practically running down the stairs to escape the growing realization that he was in too deep.

(line)

The room was crowded, full to bursting. Fran worked his way through the crowd, keeping an eye out for the telltale white spikes, and trying his damndest to find _someone_ he knew. His 'hangover' was slowing returning, sharp headache pounding behind his ears. He needed something to eat. Or quiet. Or both.

He knew his hysteria was barely contained. But he ignored the fact, keeping his fear down by concentrating on the task at hand: finding a friend. Or some version thereof.

Thankfully, the next second he bumped into Squalo, who looked like heaven on earth to Fran at the moment.

"Squalo. Thank god. I thought you had all left."

"Vrait, 'bout time you got here. Bel with you?"

Fran shook his head and shrugged, signaling 'I dunno where he went'.

Squalo frowned and was about to say something else, but a ridiculously high pitched voice came through a microphone.

_"Hellooooooooo, honeys~! Welcome to part two of the competition! Hope you enjoy this one as much as the last one~"_

Fran winced and covered his ears, but the piercing voice still rang through his system.

_"Now, this time, it's something a little different. You should all have partners; if you don't find someone. Now, the challenge is called Mind Swap~! Basically, you swap outfits with your partner. You wear what they usually do, and they wear what you usually do. You have to be as exact as possible. The most believable wins!"_

Fran could hardly believe what he was hearing. Swap outfits? With Bel? There was no way…

_"Oh, and here's some incentive. As of right now, the Varia and Vongola are tied for the lead, followed by the Arcobaleno, and then the Millefiore. Good luck to everyone! Meet back in the performance hall in two hours. That's seven o'clock, people! Have fun~!"_

Suddenly, Bel was there, tugging at his elbow and leading him through the dissipating crowd. Fran stumbled along, muttering about stupid fake princes and cursing lowly under his breath. Bel didn't seem to hear, and threw him into the nearest dressing room he could find.

The both panted, trying to catch their breath in the near dark. Bel had yet to flip the lights, and the room was the shimmery grey color of not-quite dark, but almost there. Bel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at Fran with what would have been classified as remorse, had it been anyone else.

"I shouldn't have left you like that. I thought of it as soon as I got to the main room. By the time I got back upstairs, you were already gone. I just spent the last fifteen minutes looking for you, you damn frog."

Fran blinked, not understanding what Bel meant. He felt bad for leaving? Why…oh.

"It's okay. You don't have to be with me every second of the day. It's not your problem, or your job to protect me. I understand…"

"But I need to!"

His outburst stunned him. What? He needed to? What the hell? Why did he care about this…this…boy? He thought back to the night Fran had disappeared, when he was out for three days. Bel had stayed by his bed, thinking 'what if he hadn't come back?'. He also said…the words. Those words. The ones he was avoiding now. Then there was last night, on the dance floor. He couldn't…could he?

"…Bel-senpai?"

He turned away.

"It's nothing. Shi shi shi. C'mon, let's get changed." He flipped on the light, and said nothing more.

Fran shrugged out of his shirt, and peeled off the black tank he was wearing underneath, he handed them off to the blonde, who took them silently, trying to avoid looking at the teen's pale chest. He likewise stripped, taking off his hoodie and the deep purple shirt he wore underneath, handing both to the teen in silence. Fran wiggled into them, trying to ignore the sharp scent of chocolate and spice that was Bel.

The pants were next. The both turned, carefully stripping down to their boxers and throwing the clothing at each other, scrambling into the other's pants in the most unromantic way possible. Bel's were much too large on Fran, but since Fran wore his jeans a little big, they just barely fit Bel.

Bel took one look the teenager and burst into hysterical fits of laughter. Fran crossed his arms, tapping his foot impatiently; or at least trying to. His foot got stuck in the pants, and he had to stop, or risk pulling the pants down.

"Shi shi shi shi shi~! You look so stupid!"

"….you done?"

"Shi…shi…shi…c'mere, lemme try and fix this…"

Rolled up pant cuffs, sleeves, and a tightly cinched belt later, Fran looked decent. Not stunning, but decent. Bel observed his handwork with glee, his previous bad mood forgotten. "C'mon, we gotta give you bangs now."

"…Excuse me?"

"Bangs. Like mine. The more realistic, the more points we get, and the higher up we go. We're tied with the Vongola, and we have to beat them this year. We just missed it by five points last year. Xanxus was pissed." Fran shuddered at the thought of a pissed off Xanxus, and sighed, resigning himself to the crazy blonde's hands.

"Fine. But if you ruin my hair, I'll murder you slowly. And painfully. Multiple times."

"Shi shi shi, you sound like me now too. We're getting there…"

Fran rolled his eyes, sitting in the chair in front the mirror that dominated one wall of the room, and closed his eyes, not wanting to watch the prince work his magic.

"You're lucky hair is my best thing. Shi shi shi. It actually won't look that terrible."

"Well, that's reassuring." Fran said wryly, his lips quirking into a sarcastic smile. He felt the distinct tug of a brush at his hair, and after a few minutes, Bel tugged him into a standing position.

"Wha?"

It was all he had time to say before his head was dunked into a deep basin-sink full of water. Fran sputtered, cursing as the blonde lifted his head back into the air, turning on him like a wounded animal.

"What the fuck? Are you trying to kill me?"

"No, peasant. I'm dying your hair. Mine too." He dunked his own head, coming up again like a dog, shaking his head and spraying water everywhere. Fran hissed and wiped the water from his eyes, grabbing a nearby towel as Bel forced him into the chair again.

"Now, I'm going to put this in your hair, and you're going to rub it in until I tell you to stop. Got it? Oh and here, put this towel over your…my…clothes. Get them soiled and you're a dead frog." The blonde tossed him a towel and opened the bottle of blonde hair dye he had in his hands. He squirted the color all over the teen's head, using up the entire small bottle before throwing it in the trash, and tapping Fran on the shoulder.

"Rub. It takes fifteen minutes for the color to stick. You might wanna wait twenty, though. You're hair's pretty vibrant." Bel walked a little ways away, spreading the green hair dye into his own locks and mixing the color in as well.

Twenty minutes later found Fran sitting dejectedly in his seat and Bel off rinsing his supposedly now-green locks out in the sink. When he returned, the man had his hair wrapped in a towel, drying while he worked on Fran. Fran almost had a heart attack when Bel didn't have hair in his face, but a pair of shades were covering his eyes, and Fran huffed, disappointed, in his seat.

"What, I don't get to see your hair?"

"You'll see mine when you see yours. Now, get up."

Fran rolled his eyes and walked over to the sink, taking a deep breath and dunking his head in. Bel's hands worked across his scalp, washing the extra color away. Fran absentmindedly hoped that it wasn't turning his face yellow.

He came up for air when Bel was done, eyes closed, not wanting to see the damage. Bel grabbed another towel, drying off his hair with quick, jerky motions, and leading him back to the chair. He tapped Fran on the shoulder, urging him to open his eyes.

"C'mon, Frog. It looks good. Even if you do look like my brother."

The comment caused Fran's eyes to fly open. There was no way…

But Bel's words were true. He _did_ look like Rasiel, without the bangs. But other than that…the color did look good. Bel took the towel off his head and shook his hair out. It was almost exactly Fran's hair color, and it looked completely ridiculous on him. Good, but ridiculous. Maybe it was the spikes…

"How're you gonna get my hair to spike? It doesn't do that. Trust me."  
>Bel shrugged. "Nothing a curler and a ton of hair gel won't fix. Now stay still, and close your eyes.<p>

Fran sighed and did so, ignoring Bel's muted giggles and concentrated instead on not thinking about a certain white-haired maniac currently in the mansion with him.

Forty-five minutes later, Fran wasn't himself anymore. One thing was for sure, he now knew how Bel could see through his bangs, because he now had a set just like it. His hair wasn't as spiky, so he looked like the third twin who never got any press as far as the hair went. But it wasn't bad, and if he didn't know who he was, he would have sworn he was Bel.

"Shi shi shi…pretty good, huh? You ogle at yourself, I'm gonna go straighten my hair."

Twenty minutes later he was back, and Fran was staring at the spitting image of himself…only taller. It was creepy. He even had the hat on. His crown, however, was in his hands, glittering in the low lighting.

"This is the last piece. Shi shi shi~"

Before he could say anything, the not-prince place the crown on his head, lopsided, just the way he usually wore it. It somehow made Fran look more like Bel, in a funny, weird way.

"We're ready. And with time to spare. C'mon, let's go wait backstage."

He exited the room with a laugh, Fran following behind with a shake of the head and a muted laugh of his own.

(line)

_"Is everyone ready~?" _

The piercing voice was back, and Fran resisted the urge to cover his ears again. Bel snickered behind him. The teen turned to glare at the man, but Bel just shrugged and kept laughing.

_"That's good, cuz we're about to start! Three!"_

Fran suddenly had an idea. He whipped around, coming face to face with Bel, and whispered in his ear.

"Gimme a knife."

_ "Two!"_

Bel laughed again and handed the piece of metal to Fran, who turned around again and took a steadying breath.

_"One!"_

Music started, and he walked onto the stage.

He and Bel were first. Somehow, Lussuria had managed to gather a crowd of other modeling agencies, photographers, and just ordinary people to come watch. Those who knew the pair laughed and hooted when they came onstage. Bel's face was stoic, emotionless, as Fran usually is, and Fran forced a huge grin on his face, like Bel. He twirled his knife through his fingers, earning more hoots and hollers from the crowd. The music changed, and all of a sudden they were done. All that work, and that was it. They chose seats in the audience as the next pair came one. Tsuna and Mukuro traded off, which was the smartest move for them. They had similar hair styles. They, too, used hair dye, but they took it a step further, using colored contacts to change their eyes colors. They were a bit off, but it was still impressive. They danced around each other, 'Tsuna' pretending to be a bumbling idiot and 'Mukuro' gliding along like nobody's business. They got a few laughs, too. They bowed as they went offstage.

Next up was Byakuran and some kid that Fran didn't know. Whoever it was, Byakuran was wearing thick rimmed glasses and had red hair. He also stumbled around a lot. His friend acted like he ruled the world. Fran thought it was a decent interpretation.

Mammon and Colonello worked together, but they were awful. They hadn't bothered to style their hair, and their clothes were rumpled. But their acting was hilarious. Mammon carried a plastic machine gun around and pretended to shoot things, and Colonello acted like he had ice cubes up his ass. Fran was dying of laughter.

The rest of the models came and went, some earning laughs, some earning jeers. By the time the contest ended, it was eight thirty, and Fran was yawning and scratching at his head. The dye was making it itch.

Lussuria's nasal voice came over the microphone again. _"Thank you everyone~! I'll have the results for you tomorrow! Have a nice night~!"_ The mic went dead with a snap, causing everyone to flinch.

"Shi shi shi! We were better than all of them~ shi shi shi…ne, Froggy, whataya say we hit the bar?"

"Nuh uh. I'm not letting you get me drunk again. I'm still underage. I'm going to bed."

"Shi shi shi…come on, it wasn't that bad…"

"No, senpai. I'm going to bed. See you."

He left without another word, taking two steps at a time up the master staircase, and walking casually to his bedroom. Before he could get there, however, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Fran turned to come face to face with Tsuna. He blinked, wondering what he could want with him, but upon closer inspection, Fran realized that, like him, Mukuro had yet to take off his get up.

"Oya oya…little one…that is you, right?" Fran nodded. "Good. Do you mind coming with me for a moment? I have something I want to show you. It's important."

Fran raised his eyebrow, wondering what Mukuro could possibly want, but nodded all the same and followed the man further down the hall, to a room he had never been in before. He followed the man inside, and continued to walk into the room as Mukuro stayed near the door, closing and locking it securely.

"Mukuro-san…it's dark in here, could you turn on a light?"

"Hmmm…sorry, Fran-kun, but Mukuro-kun won't be doing anything unless I tell him to~"

Fran froze, the lights coming on behind him with a click. Byakuran was standing in front of him, a huge smile on his face. Mukuro went to stand next to him, eyes downcast and frowning.

"I think you and I need to have a little talk~"


	9. Chapter 9

**A/n: So remember, last chapter, when I was upset it took me two months to write it?**

**Yeah, anyone encompassed with a feeling of déjà vu? Me too.**

***Insert spiel about how I'm such a lazy ass and can't write, etc etc etc***

**Well, now that that's done, welcome, ladies and gents! Glad to see you all again! Hope the wait wasn't too bad, and I'm glad you stuck around! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or the Varia. If I did, this would be called a screenplay, not a fanfcition. Tehee. **

**So without further ado: Chapter 9!**

"_I think you and I need to have a little talk~"_

Fran froze, his mind working at a million miles a minute. This was bad. Alone in a room with Byakuran, and with Mukuro's allegiances kind of shady, Fran was truly and royally screwed. He kept his gaze level with Byakuran's, not daring to flick his eyes around the room to find possible escape routes. Even though he still had bangs in his face from his outfit, he couldn't take the chance that his eyes weren't completely concealed. It would be a dead giveaway if Byakuran saw.

For now, he figured, it would be best to play along.

"Talk? What about?"

His mask was still in place; Fran was eternally grateful for adrenaline. He was keeping most of his crippling fear at bay. He was able to speak in a complete monotone, and his voice didn't even shake. If he had had time to think about anything else, he would have been proud of himself.

Byakuran smiled. "I simply want to speak to you about your family, Fran-kun. Tell me, what were they like?"

Fran tilted his head to the side, pretending to be confused. "And this conversation requires a locked door and a body guard?"

Byakuran grimaced quickly, and Mukuro covered a snicker with his hand. But in the next instant, Mukuro was back to his silent, frowning self and Byakuran was smiling again. "Of…course not, Fran-kun. I simply wished to give us a little privacy, in case there were some…testy details you wished to discuss."

"You mean that _you_ wish for me to discuss. I still have no idea why I'm here."

"I _told_ you, Fran-kun, you're here to tell me about your family and –"

"My family is dead, and I don't even _know_ you. What's your name? I've only heard it once…Bakuman, right?"

Byakuran gritted his teeth. "It's Byakuran. I hate that anime…"

"I can tell. But again, who are you? Why do you want to know about me? What is it for? Who are you going to tell? What are you going to do with it?"

Byakuran raised both eyebrows and closed his eyes in a smile. "You should be a reporter. You ask a lot of questions."

He was avoiding the subject. Fran fought back a snarl.

"Look, if you can't answer the questions, then I refuse to help you. I'm not telling my life's story to a complete stranger, just because he asks me to."

Byakuran let out a chilling laugh. "You're a little bit testy about your past, aren't you, Fran-kun? Why is that? Do you have something to hide~?"

Fran choked on his snippy retort. He was being sloppy. He was too worked up about a stranger asking him about his life…would he have freaked out as much if it had been anyone but Byakuran asking him these questions? Fran closed his mouth, thinking through all possible reactions to the white haired man's words. He couldn't completely change character; that would be too obvious. He couldn't say 'oh, I can't remember my past', because _that_ would be too obvious. Perhaps…

Fran looked away, pretending to be embarrassed. "I…it's not that I…want…to be so upset. I can't help it, I guess." He paused for a few seconds, steadying himself for the lie he was about to launch. "My…my parents died when I was really small, five or six. I don't really remember them. They were small time workers, didn't make very much, and they could barely afford to keep me. One day, they were riding the bus home from work, and the driver swerved into a crash. Everyone on the bus died. Including my parents." He paused again, not daring to look up and see if Byakuran was buying all this. "I spent the next eleven years in an orphanage. They didn't like me, and I didn't like them. They were glad to be rid of me as soon as they could. When I turned seventeen, I left. If I hadn't, they would have made me go. Seventeen was close enough to eighteen, they said. And so I got a job, worked at a bar, until the Varia found me and saved my ass. That's pretty much my life in a nutshell."

He finally looked up, facing Byakuran with a guarded expression. The man was thinking, staring off into space and tapping his chin with a finger. His pale eyes swiveled to stare Fran in the face, and his lips curved into a smile.

"Is that so? How do you know Mukuro, then? You seem to be very good friends~"

Byakuran probably thought the question would slip Fran up, but the teen was ready for him. He resisted the urge to smirk. "He used to come and check up on the orphanage where I lived. He tried to make nice with me, but I never liked him. Still don't really like him, actually…" Fran turned his level gaze onto the blue haired shadow, meeting Mukuro's dead eyes with distant contempt. His betrayal hurt, but it wasn't the most important thing on the agenda as of that moment.

"Hm."

That's all that the devil in white had to say about Fran's story. His face had a deceiving grin plastered on, but beneath his smile Fran could see Byakuran was beyond upset. His fingers were tapping impatiently against his chin, and his was slowly grinding his heel into the ground. Fran didn't let himself enjoy the victory yet; he would celebrate when he was safe in his own room, with the door locked and the blinds shut. Instead, he decided to play a card of his own in this sick game Byakuran had started.

"So, Byakuran-san; you never did tell me what you were using the information for. I hope it's nothing too…public. I mean, a character in a book would be fine, but a story on the news isn't what I want. I like my life now; I don't want to be famous…"

The finger stopped tapping. The foot stopped wearing a hole in the rug. Byakuran's fake smile seemed stronger now, more in place. "Oh? You _don't_ want to be famous? Then why are you here? Isn't being a model putting you in an unwanted spotlight?"

Fran stumbled on his thoughts, but his answer came out smoothly. "It's different, being a model. Models are nameless. They're just a face on a billboard, selling something. But having my name announced on the news, or have my story broadcasted everywhere, that's what I don't want. I like my privacy, I guess."

"Hm. A good answer. Speaking of names, what is your name, Fran? Hm~?"

The confused look was back. "My name? My name is Fran…"

"Oh? That's it? There's nothing after it? No family name?"

Fran looked away, looking like he was trying to remember a long forgotten name. In truth, he was trying to think of another lie. He couldn't very well say 'Sachi', now could he? That would be beyond stupid…

"Minashigo*. Fran Minashigo. It's what all the orphans used. I can't remember my real name. It's been a long time. And what about you? What's your family name? Who are you?"

Byakuran laughed at his answer. "Minashigo. How very fitting. My name is Byakuran Kami**. I'm a free-lance author looking for inspiration for my characters. And I think, Fran Minashigo-kun, you just earned yourself a character in my book. If you ever have the time, stop by this room again. I would love to interview you some more about your…interesting family history."

With that, Byakuran signaled to Mukuro, who immediately walked to the door, unlocked it, and gestured to Fran to leave the room. The teen walked out silently, dazedly, not quite believing that Byakuran was just letting him go. His fears were confirmed when the man spoke from behind him

"Oh, just one more thing, Fran Minashigo-kun. Give my regards to Belphegor-kun. Ask him if he enjoyed his little family reunion the other day; courtesy of me, of course." Fran nodded his agreement, his blood running cold as ice, and continued walking out the door. As soon as he was out of Bykuran's line of sight, he ran. He didn't stop running until he was safe behind the door of his own room, with all the lights on, and all the windows and doors barred. He had a few steadying breaths of peace, in the warm safety of his bedroom, before he lost it. He slowly sunk to the floor, his self-control finally snapping. Holding his hands to his ears and rocking frantically back and forth to the rhythm of his broken thoughts, Fran could do nothing but succumb to the overflow of fear, shaking and trembling as the panic swept through him.

_I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead…_

(line)

As soon as the door was shut once more, Byakuran turned sharply on his heel and threw the nearest breakable item into the wall across from him. Tsunayoshi probably wouldn't even notice the fancy vase that was now in pieces on the carpet was even missing…

"He's lying. He's lying through his little underage teeth. Either that or…"

Byakuran turned his head slightly, aiming his next comment over his shoulder at the other man in the room.

"Either that or _you're_ the one lying, Mukuro-kun. And you wouldn't lie to me, right? Not with so much on the line…"

The man looked panicked, scared, almost. He took a shaky step toward Byakuran, before falling to one knee. "I swear, Byakuran-san, I told you the truth. I met Fran when he was eight. He was nine when his parents were murdered on the steps of the church in the old town. After that he disappeared. I didn't even know he was still alive until he showed up with the Varia on the doorstep of the mansion. Please, believe me, I –"

"Stop your sniveling, Mukuro-kun. Your information is valid. I know that. I just enjoy watching you squirm." The white haired man turned back again, facing forward, ignoring the nearly broken man kneeling behind him, and stared at the shattered pieces of crystal on the floor. The water that was once in the vase was seeping slowly into the carpet, and the red roses that were residing happily in their crystal prison only seconds before were lying sadly nearby, their petals strewn around the general area. Byakuran walked over and picked one up gently, holding the wilting flower under his nose, and thinking quietly.

_He must know. Why would he lie so extravagantly, if he didn't know? He could have stuck with the truth…but I suppose he thought it would be too obvious who he was if he did that. But the exact opposite happened. Hm~ By telling such a large lie, Fran-kun, you ensured your identity. I know who you are. I couldn't do anything just then…you probably weren't sure of my intentions, so I had to play it safe. But now you know that I'm after you…but that doesn't matter. After all, I have three months to get rid of you…and now I know my intelligence is correct; your lie confirmed it. You're the one I need, Fran Sachi-kun. Once you're gone, my way is completely cleared. _

He let the flower fall from his fingers, landing silently on the carpet once more. He turned back around, observing his still-kneeling puppet with cold disdain, and dismissing with a wave of his hand.

"Go. I can't look at you anymore. Don't tell anyone what happened tonight, of course. I would hate to see what happened to little Tsunayoshi-kun if something got out…do I make myself clear?" He was smiling, but it was a thin smile, laced with ice and cruel promises. Mukuro nodded hastily and practically ran from the room, closing the door swiftly behind him. Byakuran sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes, already deep in thought.

_How do I kill you, Fran Sachi-kun? How will you die?_

(line)

The pounding music was back again from the night before. Bel scowled and leaned his head against the wall, one foot propped out in front of him while the other rested on his knee, nonchalantly casting his once again hair-hidden eyes around the full room. The first thing he had done after the contest let out was dunk his head into a sink full of water and rinse his straightened hair away. His hair was still practically a lake, and still green, but at least it was back to its normal curl.

He eyed the bar with disinterest, not caring enough to actually put in the effort and walk over. The dance floor, likewise, seemed unattractive to the prince at the current moment. He wasn't about to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else, but he was waiting for someone; a certain white haired someone, so he could stab him in the back for targeting…someone…dear? Close? Important? Special? And there was the reason for his scowl.

Why did he _care?_ Who was Fran to him? A month ago, the answer would have been clear. A month ago, the teen was just an annoying kid who he wanted to mess with one night. A month ago, he had attacked him without regret, without hesitation, just because he was _there._ He wasn't dear. He wasn't important. He wasn't close. And he sure as hell wasn't special. At least, that was the case a month ago.

So what changed?

He looked exactly the same. Same aqua green hair, same closed-off eyes, same build, same hair style, exactly the same. He acted the same. The same mannerisms, attitude, sarcasm, and eye-rolling, condescending looks that he gave whenever Bel was being particularly annoying.

The only change in his wardrobe was an addition of some of Mammon's clothes, and those sure as hell weren't the reason, no matter what the kid thought. Mammon annoyed the _shit_ out of Bel now. So it definitely wasn't the fact they looked alike.

And then there was the shit with Byakuran. The kidnapping, the attacking, the injuries…twice, in a week! And for some reason, Rasiel and the sick fuck who controlled him had pulled _him_ into the mess. Why would they think that Fran would come for Bel? He was the last person the prince would have thought would come to save him. But he did. And he'd brought back up.

And now he's terrified. The kid had been trying to hide it, but Bel could tell that he was scared out of his mind. He felt lost, confused, afraid; all emotions and feelings that Bel could relate with all too well. All of the fear and the uncertainty was being caused by Byakuran. So if he just got rid of him…

But why did he even _care_?

Bel growled in frustration and banged his head back against the wall, sending shots of pain through his scalp. This was too confusing. Too convoluted. He couldn't figure out why he cared. For lack of anything better to say, he would almost say he was in lo –

Bel shook his head, refusing to finish the thought. _No. Never. Not me. It won't happen to me. Not again._

His tortured thoughts were interrupted with the sound of a low voice in his ear.

"Fran's in his room. He needs your help. Don't tell anyone I told you."

Before Bel could look up and see who had spoken, the man was gone, disappeared in the crowd. Even if Bel had been able to catch a glimpse, he couldn't really tell who it was anyway; with everyone dressed up like everyone else, it was impossible to tell in the dark who was who. The voice had sounded familiar, but Bel had heard everyone's voice before. There was no way of finding out who had just tipped him, which was great for the guy; apparently, he didn't want to be found out.

Thoughts of secrecy caused Bel to think of his own secret, the secret concerning Fran's true identity. His mind then jumped immediately to Byakuran, and his blood ran cold. A quick scan around the room confirmed that the white haired man still hadn't entered the room, and all the pieces clicked together in the prince's head.

_Shit._

He was running down the hall before he could think anything else. He forgot all about his argument with himself about the kid, forgot all the strange feelings and the denial. He forgot that he wasn't supposed to care, that he wasn't supposed to be tearing around corners, scrambling to get to the teen's room. He forgot he wasn't supposed to be panicking, that his heart wasn't supposed to be beating abnormally fast in something that resembled fear. It didn't matter now. Nothing mattered. Fran was in trouble. And Bel was the only one who knew.

(line)

"Vrait, Xanxus, what the fu – "

Hot, searing lips covered his own, cutting off his abnormally quiet words. Xanxus had pulled him away from the dance floor to throw him into some freaking broom closet; it had been the closest thing with a door that Xanxus could find. And then there were lips, and hands, both searing hot and everywhere at once.

It took a few moments for Squalo to realize his lips were free once more. Xanxus had moved to his neck, biting and sucking there instead of at his mouth. Squalo bit back a moan and pushed the other man off of him with enough force to send him flying to the other side of the tiny room. Squalo panted loudly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Vrait, Xanxus. What the fuck are you doing?"

The man made a move to come closer, but Squalo stuck his hand out in front of him, sending the signal to 'stop'. Xanxus didn't particularly want to be thrown across the room again – Squalo was surprisingly strong for his thin frame – so he stopped. Squalo was the only one who could make him stop; anyone else would get shot in the head.

"What, trash?"

Squalo scowled silently in the dark. "That's what. What the fuck am I to you? Trash? Then why do you do this? I don't get it; I don't get YOU. You ignore me all day, and then fuck me all night. You never give an explanation, or ask permission, or ANYTHING. You just _assume_ it's what I want, and you _assume_ it's all I need. And I'm – "

"Isn't it?"

Squalo came to a spluttering stop, his angry voice calming to silence. In the dark, the man could just barely make out Xanxus' figure, arms crossed over his chest and still standing as far away as possible.

Squalo found his voice again. "Isn't what?"

"Isn't it what you want? Isn't it what you need?" He raised an eyebrow, a smirk spreading across his lips. "Can you honestly tell me you don't like it?'

Squalo opened his mouth and took a deep breath, ready to scream insults at the stoic, shadowy man, but his heart caught in his throat. He couldn't speak past it. He could hardly breathe. He took a small step backwards, hitting his back against the cold concrete wall, his good hand dropping back to his side. He slumped against the wall, slowly sliding down until his knees folded under him, and he fell into a sitting position.

The sharp, telltale sting of tears wound through his eyes, and he clenched his fist to his temple, feeling the scratchy material of the wig he was still wearing against his fingers. He wasn't going to cry. Crying wasn't strong, it wasn't admirable, and it wasn't _him_. Squalo never cried. No one had ever made him cry. He had a perfect record.

But the moisture behind his eyes suddenly spilled over, and his vision blurred; his throat closed up even more, causing a choking sob of a breath to force its way out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe. He was suffocating on his tears, unable to breathe in past the lump in his throat. He coughed, choked, tried as hard as he could to spit it out, or swallow it down, but it wouldn't go away. And the tears wouldn't stop.

And then Xanxus was there, his hand running up and down Squalo's back in rhythmic motions, and his shoulder pressing against Squalo's head. His sharp scent tingled the other man's nose, and all of a sudden, he could breathe again. He gulped in a large breath of air and let it out in a shuddering sob. The moisture from his eyes still wasn't stopping, but he wasn't even concentrating on that anymore. He was breathing. That's all that mattered.

The hands on his back disappeared, only to be replaced on his face a few instants later. Squalo was forced to look Xanxus right in the eyes, which he did through blurry, tear stained vision. He couldn't tell for sure, but he thought he saw compassion in those red eyes, but as he tried to blink the tears away, so he could see better, Xanxus was speaking.

"Here, Squalo. Let's get rid of this."

Squalo froze, not even registering the tugging at the wig on his head. Xanxus' fingers were surprisingly gentle as he located and removed the bobby pins holding the pitch black wig on top of the endless bounds of silver hair; in a few moments, Squalo felt his own, soft hair falling around his shoulders once more. But he barely even noticed.

_Did he just…say…my…_

The hands were back, this time running through his hair. Squalo let out a shaky sigh at the feel, letting his head fall back onto Xanxus' shoulder. He realized that his tears had stopped. The closet was silent except for the faint beating of music from the other side of the door, and the even breathing of the two men.

"Come on, trash. Let's get out of here."

Squalo nodded silently, smiling to himself in the dark. Somehow, the name didn't seem derogatory anymore. Now it was laced with compassion, and the nuances of his own name. He could hear it; every time Xanxus called him 'trash', he could hear what he was actually saying. He had heard it out of his mouth for the first time in years, just now.

_"Come on, Squalo, let's get out of here."_

That's what Xanxus really meant to say.

(line)

"Hey, no shit! Really?"

The blonde had an excited grin spread across his face, his blue eyes alight with happiness. The voice on the other end of the phone line chuckled lightly.

"_Yes shit, you idiot. I'll be there tomorrow."_

"Hey, that's the best thing I've heard all week! Things have been really boring here without you…" The blonde pouted playfully, knowing what was coming next.

_"Colonello, wipe that pout off your face. I'm only coming in for work, you know that. It's not like I missed you or anything…"_

Colonello grinned, running his good hand through his spiky blonde hair. "Hey, Lal, you know that river? In Egypt? You better wipe that blush off your cheeks before someone catches onto the fact you're _lying_. Hey, you missed my cheeky wit and you know it."

The voice harrumph-ed. "_More like I missed bashing your idiot head in. You'd better prepare yourself, 'Nello. You're a dead man when I get there."_

"Hey, I look forward to it." Colonello let the slight innuendo slip into his voice, dipping his eye into a wink for good measure.

"_…you're such an idiot."_

The connection disappeared when she hung up. Colonello sighed, and closed his cellphone morosely. He hated that his girlfriend had to work all the time. Yeah, CEDEF is a really important organization, but couldn't they give her a week or two off every once in a while?

_Hey, maybe I should write to Tsuna's father. He's in some high position at CEDEF, isn't he? Maybe he could arrange something…like a month off…or something…_

Well, it didn't matter. Colonello stopped his brooding in favor of practically skipping down the hall. Lal was coming tomorrow; he could hardly contain his glee. He didn't even notice Mammon, hiding in the shadows of a nearby doorway, dark purple hat tipped forward to hide his tear stained cheeks. He faded into the background in silence.

(line)

"Oi, Frog. It's me. Open the goddamn door."

There was no hint of sound on the other side of the door. Bel pounded his fist on the slab of wood once more, bruising the skin of his hand in his panic. He had been here for the past five minutes, and his hand was already practically bleeding from the abuse it was receiving. A few of his knives littered the floor by his feet, indicating his failed attempts to pick the lock. His voice was raw from the stage whispering, talking, and flat out screaming he had been doing in the past few minutes. He was just about ready to crack.

"Frog. Froggy. Please. Please open the door."

No response.

"Fran! Open this fucking do – "

All of a sudden, the door he had been leaning opened inward, and he fell forward into a warm body. Bel spit out a few choice curses as he was forcibly grabbed by the arm and jerked harshly forward. In the next instant, the door was slammed shut, and the blonde was almost simultaneously slammed into it, a hand clamped around his throat in a throttle hold. The blonde winced, his head cracking against the hard wood, blurring his vision for a few brief seconds. When he could see again, he was staring into a dark, frozen aqua, and the telltale sting of one of his knives pricked against the skin of his neck.

"…Oi…Frog…what are you doi – "

His question was cut off by the tightening grip on his throat, and the increase in pressure on the knife at his neck. Bel closed his mouth, his whole being screaming to just lash out at this boy, but he struggled to keep still. He didn't want to hurt the teen.

_Why not?_

He took a good look at the boy in front of him. His cold, angry eyes were the first, and really the only, thing he could see immediately. They held a sort of ice that Bel had learned to associate with himself. The ice of hate, tinged with a little bit of insanity. It chilled him to the core to see that look on Fran. It was only when he looked away from the eyes that Bel saw the state the boy was really in. His entire body was shaking violently, so much so that even the hand that was holding the knife to his throat was shaky, barely able to hold the weapon at all. After a particularly violent shake, the sharp blade nicked his skin, and Bel hissed as a few drops of blood seeped out of the injury.

_This kid has no idea what he's doing._

"Froggy. It's me. I'm not here to hurt – "

"Shut up!"

The outburst surprised him, but he wasn't given any time to react to it. Fran's hand tightened even more, causing the prince to starting choking on his own breath, trying to force a tiny amount of air back into his lungs. He kicked his heel against the door, trying to alert the teen to his discomfort without actually physically harming him. Even Bel could see that Fran was highly unstable. He didn't even recognize him; having the blonde pinned to the door at knifepoint was evidence enough of that. Physical harm would _not_ help the situation. But keeping his instincts at bay was getting more and more difficult with every passing second.

"Fr-Fran! St-st-stop it! I c-can't…can't…_b-b-reathe_."

His vision was blurring fast. Bel stopped trying to make Fran release him, instead concentrating on keeping the small amount of air he had in him from disappearing. His body strained against the natural need to breathe out, tried to hold his breath for just one more second. He lifted his hands to grip Fran's wrist, trying one last time to stop him, send him the message that _he was going to die if he kept that up_.

But Fran didn't react. And with a final strangled cry, Bel plunged into unconsciousness.

(line)

"Mukuro-san! What are you doing in here?"

The once again blue-haired man spun around, surprised that he had been caught. It was nearly impossible to sneak up on him.

"Oya, Tsunayoshi-kun, you surprised me. I didn't expect you back so soon…" He turned to face the younger man, silently shutting the drawer he had been rummaging through as he did so. The note he had been about to place in the drawer crumpled in his hand, and he stuffed it into his pocket without expression. "I just came here to get cleaned up. I hope you don't mind. You're hair products are _much_ more extravagant than mine. I enjoyed them quite a lot." He dipped his red eye into a wink, secretly admiring the dusting of red that covered Tsuna's cheeks at his statement. Mukuro slowly walked past the younger man, patting on the shoulder on his way by.

"I'll be going now. Take care, Tsunayoshi-kun."

"Wait."

Mukuro froze, not trusting himself to look the other man in the eyes. He couldn't. Tsuna could read him like an open book, and he couldn't have him find out what was going on behind his back. It was the only thing he could do to keep the smaller man safe…

"Rokudo Mukuro. Look at me."

_Shit. Full name. He knows something._

Mukuro turned slowly, meeting Tsuna's eyes with a closed off expression. The brunette's eyes were likewise guarded, all evidence of the last minute's blush completely gone. His eyes were an extremely bright brown, almost orange. _Shit. He's serious._

"What's going on, Mukuro? You haven't been…right…these past few days."

The taller man remained silent, not trusting his voice. If he opened his mouth, he would tell Tsuna everything. And then Byakuran would kill the smaller man, and make Mukuro watch. He had seen it done before.

Mukuro forced a smile onto his lips. "Nothing's wrong, Tsunayoshi-kun. I need to be going now. I'll see you…later."

He shrugged out of Tsuna's grasp and all but ran from the room, nearly colliding with the man standing in the doorway. His flat black eyes regarded him coldly, and Mukuro snarled at him, running out of the doorway just in time to miss the smirk that played across the other man's lips. Had he seen it, Mukuro wouldn't have left in that much of a rush. He would have taken the other man with him, in order to keep him from Tsuna. But he didn't see. So the other man didn't leave.

"Sawada. You called."

"Ah, Hibari-san. Yes, yes…I did. There's something I need you to do for me." Tsuna was looking away, trying to hide the tears pooling in his eyes. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, shaking slightly with the rejection the brunette had just experienced. He turned reluctantly to the waiting man, forcing the tears back into his mind, to be shed at some later time.

"Do you like games, Hibari-san?"

The black haired man cocked his head to side, shaking his head as a prequel to his answer. "No. Games are for herbivores; I never had much fun playing them. My opponents were always…weak."

Tsuna smiled, a sliver of ice embedded into his lips, making his expression cold and unwelcoming. "That's a pity. I needed someone to play with. It's a very interesting game, I promise. And your opponent is the strongest man in the mansion. Maybe you can finally beat him this time." Tsuna lifted his gaze to meet Hibari's shock-widened eyes. He waited patiently as the other man's expression morphed form one of shock into one of coy acceptance.

"So what are the rules of this game?"

Tsuna smirked, walking toward Hibari with slow, even steps. He leaned up on tiptoe to whisper his companion's ear, his breath fanning over the other man's skin.

"_There are no rules…"_

(line)

Broken breaths. Sharp, high-pitched, and stuttering breaths. That was what woke the blonde from the darkness that surrounded him; the know-it-anywhere sound of shattering sobs somewhere next to his ear.

He moaned lightly, testing out each of his limbs, checking for mobility. To his incredible surprise, he didn't hurt. The only thing that ached was his throat, and his head. So breathing was a little difficult, and so was thinking. But he didn't need those anyway…right?

"Bel-senpai! You're okay? Oh god, I hope you're okay. I didn't mean it, I didn't mean to, I swear, I swear, I swear I didn't, I…"

The sobs started up again. Bel furrowed his brow in confusion, trying to work past the fog in his brain at the moment. Who was it? Fran? The emotionless stone? Why was he so upset? Why was he _crying_?

He swallowed, wincing in pain as the liquid scraped down his throat. His consciousness was coming back in chunks, now. He remembered the party, the tip off…running up to Fran's room…

"Oh, _fuck_."

Bel shot up into a sitting position, ignoring his swimming head. He felt around his immediate vicinity, his hands meeting soft linen and fluffy cotton; he figured that he was in Fran's bed. A slight gasp from next to him identified the teen, kneeling at the bedside with his hands wringing together on the sheets frantically. A quick scan of the room found the knife on the floor near the door, far away from the hysterical teen next to him. Relaxing a bit, understanding that his life wasn't in immediate danger, Bel finally looked at the younger male. His eyes softened completely, his heart giving a twinge at the sight.

Fran had obviously been crying the entire time Bel had been out; his puffy red eyes and nose were enough evidence of that. His hands were raw from wringing the sheets through them for who knows how long, and he was still shaking uncontrollably. A few bloody tissues on the bedside table showed that he had cleaned up the rivulets of blood that he had drawn from Bel's neck. The blonde lifted a hand to his injury, not really surprised to find a Band-Aid covering the cut. Fran had really gone all out.

"B-Bel-senpai? A-are you okay?"

His voice was timid, quiet, and tear choked. Bel couldn't help it. He felt his mental shields screaming at him to back away, to stop before it was too late, but he ignored them. He reached his hand down to the teen, an offering of peace, and the boy stared at it blankly before hesitantly grasping it. The prince pulled him up onto the bed, settling Fran in a sitting position next to him before the teen had a chance to complain.

"I'm fine. Been through worse, Froggy. I'm more worried about you." He watched Fran's eyes widen at the word _worried_, mouthing the word to himself a few times before turning to face the blonde on disbelief.

"_You._ Were worried. About _me_."

Bel smirked, nodding his head slowly, looping an arm around the teen's still-shaking shoulders.

"Yeah. I was. Shi shi shi~ Got a problem?"

Fran shook his head rapidly from side to side, stuffing his fists into the plush comforter between his legs and glancing sideways at the other man. Bel was staring straight ahead, seemingly not paying attention to the teen, whistling softly between his teeth. Waiting.

"I…"

Bang-covered eyes turned toward him, and Fran could feel the weight of his gaze on his skin. Shivering a little, he turned away. Bel did the same, resuming his whistling as if nothing had happened.

His arm was heavy around Fran's shoulders. The teen shifted a little, trying to get him to move away, but Bel only responded by tightening his grip. Fran shot him an irritated glance, which the blonde didn't see. He leaned away again, sending the message more obviously, and again Bel tightened his grip. Again, Fran shot him a look, getting more annoyed by the second. He was too preoccupied with the blonde to notice that his shaking had stopped, and his heart rate was returning to normal. His mind was clearer, and the panic was gone.

"Look, Bel-senpai. Can you get off me? I appreciate you being…worried…about me, but this is a little…"

"A little what?"

The hidden gaze was back, stronger than ever. Fran felt his cheeks heat up as he met the blonde head on, refusing to look away this time. Indeed, when one of them moved, it was Bel who looked away, a faint dusting on his cheeks to match Fran's.

"You've calmed down. That's good."

Fran blinked, his irritation fading at those few words. He had calmed down. He'd been so busy being pissed that he had forgotten to be scared. He scowled inwardly, cursing the man beside him. He was so good at pissing him off, that he only had to walk into the room do make it happen now. And yet, he helped him so much in the process…

"I'm sorry."

Bel tilted his head toward the teen, indicating he was listening, and urging Fran to continue.

The boy fidgeted. "I'm sorry. For jumping you like that. I was…out of my mind. I didn't mean to hurt you. At least, not _that_ badly…"

Bel giggled, ruffling the teen's hair with his hand, ignoring Fran's cry of protest.

"Shi shi shi. It's fine. I told you, don't worry about it."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, simply enjoying the lack of sound. Finally, Bel lifted his arm off of the teen's shoulders, flopping back onto the pillows with a soft _thwump_. Fran eyed him warily before following suit.

"Must've been hard, getting me up here when I was out. How'd you do it?"

Fran remained silent, choosing to stare at his ceiling rather than answer that. In truth, it had involved touching more of Bel's body than he had ever really wanted to at this stage of the game, but there was _no way_ he was telling the blonde that. He would never hear the end of it…

"Oi, Frog. I'm talking to you."

Fran shrugged, shooing his thoughts out of the way. "It was easy. I dragged you. You banged your head a couple of times, though. Whoops."

Bel growled, muttering a few choice curses, and ignored the teen for the next few minutes. Fran smirked inwardly.

Another stretch of silence. Fran began to shift around again, getting bored with the quiet. His head itched from the dye and hair products, which were still plastered into his hair. He wanted to take a shower. Which meant that Bel had to leave the room. Which meant Fran had to get him _out_ of is room.

And therein laid the problem.

"Er…senpai. Would you mind leaving now? I feel much calmer now, but I need to take a shower…"

Bel didn't even shift a little. He just continued to stare at the ceiling, as if he hadn't heard.

"Bel-senpai? Could you leave now? Please?"

No reaction. Fran scowled, sitting up and reaching over to the blonde's shirt, tugging on the fabric urgently.

"Hey, Bel! Can you hear me? I said get out!"

"I'll get out when you tell me what's wrong."

The statement was muttered, barely even audible. Fran froze, barely believing what he'd heard.

"What?"

"You heard me. Why did you try to kill me?"

Fran sat slowly on his heels, his fists lying loosely in his lap. Of course. Bel never gave up that easily. Of course there were motives behind his kindness. Of course.

"Why do you want to know."

It wasn't even a question. Fran didn't have any energy left for questions. It was just a statement. Bel caught onto his tone, jerking into a sitting position and observing him with ill-masked worry.

"Froggy?"

Fran hid his face with his hair, looking to the side and averting his eyes. "Why do you care."

"Wha –"

"I said _why do you care_. About me. About this. Why are you so worried about me?" He turned away, hiding his face behind his hair. "I don't need your pity…"

He expected Bel to leave then, just walk out of the room after an awkward silence and leave him alone, all alone with his stone cold emotions and his fear. Just turn and leave. After all, it's to be expected from someone who tried to kill you, wasn't it? People who do that don't _care_…

Fran sure as hell didn't expect Bel to lean over and grab his shoulder, didn't expect him to jerk him around, and definitely didn't expect the warm, soft lips pressed up against his own in a tender kiss. The teen jerked back instinctively, surprised at the sudden contact, but Bel wound his fingers through the younger male's hair, holding him fast.

"H-Hey!" Fran tried to force the word through his occupied lips, but Bel wouldn't have it. He used the opportunity to pull the teen closer, slipping his tongue into the other's mouth and effectively locking their lips together. Fran began to lose all sense of direction, and when Bel ran his fingers through his hair, massaging his head gently, Fran gave up completely. He looped his arms around the blonde's neck, arching his back as he participated fully in the kiss, moving his lips in synch with the older man's and weaving his fingers quietly into his hair. He had learned his lesson from last time, however, and stayed far away from Bel's bangs. He didn't want him freaking out again.

When they pulled apart, neither was unaffected by the intensity of the kiss. They were panting, and Fran was well on his way to becoming beet red, and Bel's cheeks also contained a hint of color. They were silent for a time, just staring at each other, sizing up the other's reaction. It wasn't lovey-dovey like in the movies, and there weren't little animals and birds flitting all over the room, but something had changed. Fran could feel it.

"I want to help you."

Bel's voice was rough, ragged, and full of underlying emotion that Fran couldn't even begin to understand. He simply sat back on his heels and waited for the rest.

"I want to help you. Not because I need to, but because I want to. I don't want you to get hurt. Well, not by anyone else, that is. I can't promise I won't hurt you…but whatever. I wanna help you get through this, so we can go back to what we had. Before all this happened."

Fran tucked his smile into the corner of his mouth. "We had something? Before all this happened?"

Bel had been staring intently at the comforter, but when the words left Fran's mouth, his head jerked up to stare the teen in the face. His expression was something akin to horror.

"I…thought we did. Shi…shi…didn't you?"

Fran said nothing, choosing instead to lean forward and press his lips against the stunned blonde's, voicing his answer in something more than words. When he pulled back, he was secretly delighted to see Bel at a loss for words, his face red as a tomato.

"I felt it too."

The simple sentence lit up the blonde's face like a Christmas tree, and he silently hugged the younger boy, wrapping his arms around the slim model as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Fran was more than a little surprised. He hadn't pegged Bel to be the cuddling type.

A slight prick on his skin verified his thought. Fran hissed out a low curse as Bel pulled away, a bloodied knife in his hand and a smirk on his face.

"No one can touch you now. I've marked you as mine. If anyone touches you, they're dead."

"You…marked me." Fran eyed him with extreme doubt.

"Yup! Shi shi shi. It's just an X, don't worry. It's not like I carved a picture on you or anything. Shi shi." The blonde looked extremely proud of himself.

Fran weighed his options. Killing the blonde would obviously be the most preferable course of immediate action, but that would leave a huge mess for him to pick up. Castration was the next option that came to mind, but again, Fran didn't want to deal with mess. So what Fran did next was only because his other two options were null and void.

He leaned forward and snatched the knife from the prince's hand, wiping it quickly clean and leaping toward Bel, whose stunned reaction still hadn't vanished from his features. In the next second, Bel was flat on his back and Fran was straddling his stomach, holding this knife as casually as one might hold a pen, or a sheet of paper. He could feel the little droplets of blood seeping from the cut in his shoulder blade, so he chose the exact same spot on the other man, just reverted to the front of his body instead of the back. He found the spot and, before Bel could really figure out what he was doing, he etched out a simple X onto Bel's skin, to match his own.

"There. Now I've marked _you_. You know, I can see why you like this stuff so much. It's really quite entertaining." He licked the knife for good measure, eyeing Bel with amusement before leaping off of him in one smooth motion.

There were about three beats of silence before Bel leapt out of the bed and ran toward the teen.

"You're _dead_ Frog. Dead!"

But Fran had anticipated this, and he skirted lightly around the enraged blonde, slipping into the bathroom and locking the door shut. Bel couldn't stop in time, and he ran straight into the door. Fran smothered a giggle, jiggled the door handle to make sure it was locked, and took a few paces back. Bel was growling curses on the other side of the wood.

"I am gonna wait right here, Frog. When you come out of there, you're dead. _Dead_. Shi shi shi~!"

Fran covered another giggle with his hand, turning on the shower and peeling out of his clothes. With each article of clothing that came off, another piece of Fran's worry was shed with it. He would be protected. Bel and the Varia would keep him safe.

And there, in the safety of steam from the shower and an enraged prince nearby, Fran believed it.

**Notes:**

*Minashigo literally translates into 'orphan' in Japanese (I used a dictionary…should be accurate..)

**Kami means 'god'


	10. Chapter 10

**A/n: Hello, Ladies and Gents! Welcome to chapter 10! I'm terribly sorry it took so long…but a lot happens in this chapter; lots of introductions and antics, that's for sure. So if you'll forgive my lateness, please enjoy chapter 10!**

**Disclaimer: Of course, I don't own KHR. Those rights belong to Akira Amano. Sadly. You know my views on that. **

**Please enjoy! **

"_Mukuro-sama?"_

_ The blue haired man opened his eyes with a violent gasp, pushing up off his back into sitting position and blinking away the sleep from his eyes. The soft grass beneath his hands swayed in the slight breeze, and the light, sweet air billowed around him soothingly. _

_ He recognized where he was immediately, and squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to wake himself from the bittersweet dream. _

_ "Nii-san?"_

_ The girl's voice came from behind him this time, sounding like chimes in his ear. He whirled around suddenly, grabbing the girl by the shoulders before she could move again. He had learned the tricks by now. He knew what to do to hold her in place. _

_ Instead of looking scared, as he had thought she would, the girl looked mildly surprised and was beaming. Her dark purple hair was down, swaying around her shoulders in the breeze. Her eye patch was tied around her head like a headband, leaving both of her eyes open for scrutiny; once purple, and one red, both glinting with excitement. The simple white dress she wore fitted her loosely, perfect for the summery temperature of the land. _

_ "Nii-san, I'm so happy to see you! You rarely ever come anymore…don't you miss me?"_

_ Mukuro's eyes widened in shock, and he pulled the smaller girl into a hug. "Nagi! Of course I miss you! I've just been…preoccupied. My apologies, many apologies…"_

_ He could feel her shaking her head in his embrace, and she pushed herself out of his arms. She took a few steps back, staring at him sadly. _

_ "It's Chrome now, Mukuro-sama. I'm not Nagi anymore. You know that."_

_ "Na – Chrome. Right. My mistake."_

_ An awkward silence settled over the pair. The older male stared intently at the gently waving grass, avoiding eye contact with one of only two people who could read him like an open book. The girl who looked so much like him stared off into the open sky, watching the happy white clouds float silently by. In the distance, she could see a storm brewing on the horizon. Her brow furrowed in confusion. _

_ "Nii-san? Is everything alright?"_

_ He made the mistake of looking up, facing her with tortured eyes. Her eyes widened, taking a step backwards and falling on the ground. _

_ "Mukuro?"_

_ He laughed bitterly, already feeling the tug of his consciousness, pulling him from this heavenly hell. He stood and braced himself, turning his back on the girl in the grass._

_ "Goodbye, Nagi. You can't help me."_

_ He felt her stand up, heard her start toward him._

_ "MUKURO!"_

_He was gone._

(line)

Fran awoke to the feeling of cool tile against his cheek, and the scratchy material of a towel wrapped around his waist. The only things in his immediate vision were a vast expanse of off-white porcelain, and a little bit of light green tile. He blinked.

_What the hell?_

He pushed up off the floor, wincing as his neck and spine creaked and cracked, courtesy of sleeping on a hard tile floor all night. His shoulder ached for some reason, and it took him a good three minutes of sitting and staring around his surroundings to remember what had happened the night before. With a curse, Fran jumped up and stared intently in the mirror, tilting his shoulder toward the glass to try and catch a glimpse of what he knew was there.

_Yup. There it is._

The X was an angry red; still healing and scarring over from last night. The only consolation that Fran could muster for himself was that Bel was nursing a similar wound. In fact, it made Fran feel immensely better. _Maybe next time, Bel will think twice about inflicting pain…_ The instant he thought it, Fran shook his head in disbelief and laughed at himself quietly. Bel would never change.

As his memory woke up further, the smile slowly dripped from the teen's face. Byakuran. Byakuran knew who he was, and he had been too distraught last night to let Bel or anyone else know. At the thought of the prince, Fran cast a questioning look at the still locked door of the bathroom. He couldn't still be outside…could he?

Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, the teen dropped to his hands and knees and scuttled over to the locked door. His shoulder protested a bit, especially when he bent his head sideways to peer under the crack of the door, but he ignored the twinges of pain. As far as he could see, there was no one on the other side, but his range of vision was limited. Fran bit his lip in thought, weighing his options. He doubted that Bel would _actually_ kill him…but then again, this was Bel he was talking about…

Fran blinked and shook his head, forcing himself to stop thinking. He reached for the doorknob, unlocked it with a twist of the handle, and stepped out of the bathroom for the first time in at least twelve hours. His shoulders were tense, waiting to be jumped, braced for an attack that would never come.

The room was empty and silent. One of the windows was open, letting in the crisp November air. Fran shivered violently, sliding silently over to the window and snapping it shut, locking it with a twist. He doubted he would open any windows in his room until after he turned eighteen. After that, even, if Byakuran continued to hunt him. He doubted the man would stop trying to kill him just because he was officially eighteen. In fact, he found extremely improbable.

This time, his thoughts were disturbed by loud laughter from the lower levels. Fran lifted his head in interest, padding over to the bedroom door and opening it a crack, smiling inwardly when the sound intensified.

His interest piqued, the teen scrambled about his room, exchanging his scratchy towel for clothes suitable for company. He pawed through his limited collection, settling for a simple black tee, a pair of blue jeans, and the ever present frog hat, tilted over his eyes to cast a mysterious shadow. He went barefoot. After he put on the hat, it crossed his mind that Bel's crown was curiously missing from his head. He would bet any amount of money that the blonde had snatched it back without him knowing.

Another round of laughter from below spurred Fran back into motion. He left his room silently, running down the huge spiral staircase and pausing for a second to try and locate the source of the laughter. The other models weren't making it very difficult. Another peal of raucous laughter filtered through the open doors of the main lounge area, and Fran shook his head slightly as he snuck up to the room and poked his head in.

The room was full of people he didn't know. He had seen them around, of course, but Fran doubted if he could pick even one of them out of a list of names. There were a few he recognized from his first day here, like the boyish guy with short spiky hair, who was rolling on the floor with laughter, while another man with short silver hair yelled at him, his face covered in a red blush. Nearby, a group of young teens were arguing about something, each one holding a card in their hands and making extreme gestures with them. One was tall and thin, with curly black hair and lime green eyes, another was rather short, with her hair divided into two black pigtails, and the last was blonde, blue-eyed, and dwarfed his two companions in regard to height. He seemed to be winning the argument.

Continuing on down the line, Fran blinked when he recognized Tsuna sitting among the group. His usually stoic face was curled up in laughter, and he was leaning heavily on a dark shadow of a man, whose cold grey eye surveyed the room in a smug manner. Fran moved his own gaze quickly away from the man. Something about him screamed 'predator'.

The teen also recognized Colonello, but the blonde wasn't paying any attention to the scene in front of him. He was gazing out the window, a dazed expression on his face. He seemed to be mulling over something important, while at the same time impatiently waiting for something to happen. Sitting next to Colonello was another familiar looking man, his orange striped fedora tipped over his eyes to hide his expression, although Fran could see the beginnings of a smirk forming on his lips. Suddenly, the man snapped his head up, catching Fran's gaze full on. His black eyes were shining with some kind of hidden light, as if he knew all of the teen's secrets just by looking at him.

Fran shuddered, breaking away from the man's gaze to continue his sweep of the room. He finally found the Varia, nestled in the corner of the room and keeping to themselves, as usual. Xanxus was watching the antics with something akin to amusement, while Squalo and Bel were laughing the loudest of the entire group. The silver crown glinted mockingly in the blonde's light hair, proving Fran correct in his previous thought. Fran was surprised and slightly horrified to find Mukuro sitting with this group as well, a small smile plastered on his lips. He was eyeing Tsuna with a sort of heartbroken desolation, but the brunette didn't glance his way once. Whether or not the cold front was intentional, Mukuro was certainly taking a few hits to his ego. Fran tried to be indifferent, but he found that even though the man had betrayed him, he couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. He was clearly distraught.

Just as Fran was about to slip quietly back upstairs – where Mukuro was, Byakuran was sure to follow, and he didn't want to deal with that – the guy with short black hair noticed him in the doorway, and a huge smile split across his face.

"Hey! New kid! C'mon in here! We don't bite…" He dipped his eye into a wink, ushering Fran into the room with a wave of his hand. The teen shook his head, trying to send every signal he could that he didn't want to, but the man would have none of it. He and his silver haired friend, apparently on the same wavelength, got up at the same time and lunged for the door, each of them grabbing on of Fran's arms and pulling him forcibly into the room. Fran hadn't even had time to take another step backwards.

_Damn, they're fast…_

And suddenly, Fran was seated on the floor amongst all the others, his hat dipped as low as it could go over his face, and his emotions sealed behind a perfectly stoic mask.

_I don't want to be here, I don't want to be here, I don't want…_

"Well, now that you're here, you have to introduce yourself! We haven't seen you since you got here, and that's just not right. You're one of us. So you should act like it." The spiky haired male was talking again. Fran decided he was a little _too_ happy for his tastes. Apparently, his sliver haired companion thought the same. He delivered a sharp whack upside the head to the black haired male, who yelped and rubbed the injury sheepishly.

"What'd you do that for, 'Dera? I was just saying…"

"Yeah? Well you're freaking me out with all the overbearing kindness; and if you're freaking _me_ out, I can only imagine what you're doing to the kid. Tone it down, Takeshi."

The other man raised his hands in mock defense, leaning away and laughing. "Oh, name change! Scary, scary! Excuse me, while I go cower in fear…" Fran raised an eyebrow as the man proceeded to do just that. He crawled over to one corner of the room and began to rock back and forth, muttering things under his breath and 'sobbing'. Fran had to fight back an eye-roll at the sight; the silver haired man, however, had no such restraints. He 'tch-ed' and shook his head, rolling his eyes so far toward the ceiling that Fran thought they would pop right out of his head.

"Idiot."

He returned his attention to the still-silent teenager, who was apparently trying to sit on as little of the floor as possible: his arms were straining in an effort to keep himself upright, and he looked like he was about to bolt for the door at any given moment.

_Maybe there's a reason he doesn't hang out around people…_

But the man dismissed the thought with a shake of his head, shifting his body weight so that he was sitting next to the teen. He tried to ignore it when the younger male leaned away slightly.

"Hey, kid. Time for introductions, yeah? I'm Gokudera Hayato, and that idiot is Yamamoto Takeshi." He paused, giving the teen a few seconds to reply. When it became obvious that he wasn't going to, Gokudera shrugged and continued.

"Those three bozos are Lambo, I-Pin, and…Basil, are you _still_ arguing over that? You're nineteen! Stop fighting with the kids!" The blonde-blue-eyed boy looked over his shoulder, flipped Gokudera the bird, and continued to argue with the two younger teens.

"Honestly, I don't even know why he's here. He already has a job, and it sure as hell isn't modeling. Anyway, moving on. You know Tsuna, of course." The slight brunet had been trying to bring order to his flyaway hair. He looked up sheepishly at the sound of his name and waved. The man sitting next to him smirked. He eyed Fran in a very confrontational way, as if he would pick a fight at any moment.

"That's Hibari. I'd stay away from him. He's about as cuddly as a feral cat."

Even though Hibari's current position – sitting quite close to Tsuna with one arm slung around his shoulders – contradicted Gokudera's statement, Fran decided that he wouldn't take chances. Hibari seemed like he wouldn't appreciate cuddling with anyone else.

"Let's see…over there, being a love-struck moron, is Colonello. Have you met him? I think you have…I don't remember…" Fran nodded his head slightly, still feeling immensely uncomfortable in this crowd. Looking at Colonello, though, he had to agree with Gokudera's statement. The blonde hadn't even looked up at the sound of the name. He just stared out the window, twisting a couple of the pillow fringes around in his fingers absentmindedly. He was the picture of a love-struck teenager. Fran had to bite back a smile at the sight.

_Perhaps these guys weren't so bad._

"Ah…and that's Reborn. He's the head of the Arcobaleno; he kinda keeps to himself, so I wouldn't worry about running into him." Fran wanted to ask what would happen if he _did_ run into him, but another flat black glance from the man froze his words in his throat. This man was scary, in a different way than Hibari. It was almost as if the man could see right through every lie he had ever told, right into the heart of his soul. Fran shivered again and quickly redirected his gaze. It was the stare of a killer.

"Oi, bomb-freak. Aren't you gonna introduce us? Shi shi shi~"

Fran heard Gokudera sigh in exasperation as he turned to face the final group.

"Actually, no, since I'm pretty sure this kid knows who you are. Well maybe not Mukuro but…hey, kid. That's Mukuro. The petty magician who wants to be on top of the world." The disdain was clear in the silver haired man's voice, and Fran wondered what Mukuro had done to upset him.

Despite the man's betrayal, Fran felt like he had to defend him somehow. "He's not a petty magician, Gokudera-san. In fact, I studied under him for about a year. He's about as real as it gets, and as good as you could ever find."

Silence settled over the room after his statement. Fran didn't really understand why his opinion was so radical, but the fact that he could hear Gokudera's heartbeat through the silence was making him uncomfortable. He shifted around on the floor, trying to get to a more comfortable position, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tsuna do the same. The brunet was staring intently at the ground, a light blush dusting across his cheeks. Fran saw him shoot a glance at Mukuro, but the look was so fleeting, he doubted it had even really happened.

_Something definitely happened between the two of them. _

Colonello blinked and shook his head, as if waking from a long sleep, and looked around the silent room. He glanced at each frozen figure, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"What'd I miss?"

Of course, that was really the only thing that could have broken the awkward silence. Everyone, with the exception of Hibari and Reborn, burst into peals of laughter. Even Fran had to struggle to keep his composure; Colonello's comment had come with such good timing. Sure enough, by the time everyone had regained composure, they had forgotten why they were silent in the first place.

"Anyway, kid. I've introduced everyone. Now it's your turn." Gokudera grinned at him goodheartedly, and Fran bit back a sigh. He was the center of everyone's attention again, and he just wanted to get it over with.

"My name's Fran. It's a pleasure to meet all of you." He dipped his head in a little bow, causing Gokudera and Yamamoto to laugh out loud.

"He's so formal! Honestly kid, where'd you learn to speak like that?"

Fran decided to keep silent. He had learned from experience that, when you worked at a bar, people liked you better if you were pretty _and_ polite. Also, when every other word that comes out of your co-workers' mouths is a swearword, sometimes the only intelligent company you can find is yourself. So Fran strive to sound as intelligent as possible. After all, it was his 'smart' mouth that got him here in the first place, wasn't it?

But all the response he gave to the still-laughing duo was a shrug and a blank look. He didn't feel like explaining all of that to them. Fran cast his gaze around the room, settling on the arguing trio; they had stopped their bickering when the room had fallen silent, but now they were at it again with a vengeance.

"So…what were you all laughing at before? Before I came in. Seemed like it was a riot."

It was a ploy to get the attention off of him, and thankfully it worked. Squalo spoke up for the first time, his loud voice carrying out across the entire room.

"Oh, nothing really. We were playing people charades."

Fran stared at him, his blank expression speaking volumes.

Squalo blinked at him in surprise. "You've never played people charades?"

The teenager shook his head slowly from side to side, managing to keep the blank look plastered on his face.

Squalo shook his head sadly, while Bel burst into peals of insane laughter beside him. Fran shot him a look before redirecting his attention back to Squalo. The older man sighed and finally explained.

"Vrait…it's pretty much regular charades, but you pretend to be someone in the mansion, instead of some random idea from a card. _Some_ people don't see its beauty, and insist on playing by the cards anyway." He shot a scathing glare at the trio of teenagers, all of which turned and stuck their tongues out at him simultaneously. Squalo scowled at them and went back to his explanation. "But anyway. People charades. Before you walked in, Hayato did the most _perfect_ impression of Skull, one of Reborn's models. It was…vrait, I can't even. I wish someone had gotten it on tape. It would have been enough blackmail to make him my slave for the rest of his life…" Squalo and Bel burst into another round of raucous laughter, and were soon followed by everyone in the room. Fran, having no idea who Skull was, was completely lost.

So, he mentally rolled his eyes, keeping his stoic mask in place. "Sounds riveting."

Squalo smirked, but it was Bel who spoke up next. "Oh, but it is, Froggy. Shi shi shi~ Here, I'll show you."

He slid into a standing position and practically skipped over to the center of the room. There, he paused, grinning at Fran for one last second before turning to the rest of the group and bowing a little.

"Guess who I am!"

He slumped his shoulders a little, and stuck his hands in his pockets. He slouched, bending his knees when he walked around the room, and shuffled his feet. Suddenly, he was the perfect copy of someone who didn't want to be seen. A sinking feeling began to form in Fran's stomach. The feeling intensified when Squalo began laughing, quickly followed by a short, quick guffaw from Mukuro. Fran shot them a scathing look, his mask slipping just enough for his eyes to spark angrily. As Bel moved again, though, his attention was brought back to the middle of the room. The blonde had turned toward him, his huge grin completely absent from his face. In its place was a disinterested look that Fran recognized all too well. Despite the fact that he was obviously mocking him, Fran had to respect Bel's ability to keep a straight face. Even after more people in the room started laughing, he kept the disinterested look going strong, shuffling around the room and looking around in a confused manner. Fran was just about ready to kill him when Yamamoto yelled out "Fran! You're Fran!" before collapsing into a fit of giggles. That put an end to the charade, which Fran was eternally grateful for, and Bel's shit-eating grin returned to his face. He joined into the laughter, his own high-pitched giggle cutting through all of the others.

Fran didn't feel himself move, but all of a sudden he was standing in front of the laughing blonde, his hands clenched into fists at his side. Before Bel could react, Fran snatched the silver crown from his head and placed it on his own, ignoring the gasps of surprise that sounded from behind him. He stared Bel right in the eyes, which he could just see through his bangs, and spoke in a voice so low he could barely hear it.

"My turn."

He turned on his heel without another word, and stalked over to the center of the room. He, too, bowed a little before gesturing to the crowd with his hands.

"Guess who I am."

Fran closed his eyes for a second before straightening up to his full height, adjusting the crown so it sat extremely tilted on his head. He tugged on his shirt until it fell off of one of his shoulders, exposing his skin to the cool air. He fussed with his hair until most of his eyes were covered by the green mass, and finally started walking. He surveyed the room with cool disinterest, wrinkling his nose as if he had smelt something awful, and started to strut round the room. He nearly tripped once, but when he recovered, he dipped into a fighting stance, as if looking for someone to blame it on. Then he shrugged and went back to strutting, swinging his arms back and forth and keeping the disgusted expression on his face.

Like last time, Squalo was the first one to burst into laughter, quickly followed by a snicker from Gokudera and a giggle from Tsuna. Soon, everyone was laughing at Bel's expense, but no one had called out his name yet. Fran was getting a little tired of the act, so he stopped in the middle of the room once more, bowed, and went walked back over to the blonde.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the one and only royal pain in the ass…Belphegor." The teen bobbed a curtsy, making everyone fall into a new round of laughter. The blonde snatched to crown from the teen's head, replacing it on his own with a blank expression. As Fran looked up to meet his eyes, however, a grin split across his features, and he laughed softly.

"Shi shi shi…good one, Frog."

And then he promptly captured Fran in a neck hold and dragged him over to the Varia's corner, despite the teen's verbal reluctance. The games continued as soon as the two sat down, and soon Fran was lost in a whirl of laughter.

(line)

The distant sound of laughter drifted up the stairwell, and Byakuran clicked his tongue in annoyance. He swiveled back around in his chair, staring blankly at the illuminated computer screen with his hand cupped around his cheek. His other hand idly handled the mouse, scrolling down the page with disinterest. It was just a load of gibberish, really; the latest gossip and goings-on in the bowels of CEDEF, the company that had so ruthlessly cut him open and left him in the cold…

_Sachi, you were one hell of a righteous bastard._ _Hm~ Almost makes me feel bad for killing you…_

His phone lit up and vibrated on the desk next to his hand, and Byakuran snatched it up immediately. The device was pressed against his ear before it could ring again.

"Yes?"

The man on the other end seemed nervous. His words came out in a few rushed sentences.

"You have another agent coming your way. One that knew Mr. Sachi, before he…well, she's on her way. They gave her a protection assignment, so she's going to be around for a while. Be very cautious. She's a bad one."

Byakuran sighed and leaned back in his chair, tipping his head back against the seat.

"Genkishi…are you telling me what to do?"

The following reply was stuttered and hurried. "No, sir. I was just making a friendly suggestion. That's all. Look, Byakuran-sama, I have to go. If I get caught on this line, I'll be fired for sure. And then where would you be, stranded in that mansion without a spy?"

He heard the little bit of smugness in the other man's tone. The white haired man narrowed his eyes in disgust before replying, a sliver of ice slipping into his voice.

"Are you implying, Genkishi, that you are irreplaceable? Because if you are, let me assure you that you are, without a shadow of a doubt, one-hundred percent disposable. And if you don't watch yourself, you may find yourself alongside Mr. Sachi in a nice cold grave. Do I make myself clear?"

The silence on the other end was all the answer he needed.

"Hm~ Thought so. Is that all, Genkishi?"

It took a few seconds for the man to formulate a reply.

"Y-Yes sir. That is all."

Byakuran smiled coldly, sitting back up straight and leaning his elbows on the desk in front of him. "Well, that's wonderful! You know how to contact me if something else comes up. Goodbye, Genkishi. Have a _stellar_ day~"

Byakuran snapped the cell shut with a twitch of his wrist, and sent it spinning across the room with another twitch.

Imbeciles. The whole lot of them.

He sighed once more, leaning back in his chair again and casting his hand across his eyes.

_A woman agent who was alive when Sachi was…well, that can only be one person. She's the last person I want in this mansion. Damn it all, Genkishi…you couldn't give me more of a warning than this?_

His musings were interrupted by a small knock on the door, and Byakuran sprang out of his chair in a heartbeat. He turned to the open door, surprised to find one of Reborn's models standing in the doorway. It was the small, moody one who was always in the shadows…what was his name?

Byakuran shook of his thoughts with a fake smile, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"Anything I can do for you, Arcobaleno?"

The model shifted uncomfortably, casting a worried glance over his shoulder. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke.

"Is there any way I could speak with you privately?"

Byakuran's eyebrows rose in surprise, and he quickly weighed his options. He immediately came to the conclusion that even if the kid _did_ try something, he could easily overpower the smaller man. Waving his hand invitingly, Byakuran returned to his chair and took a seat.

"By all means. Come in. And close the door behind you, hm~?"

The smaller model did just that, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. Byakuran still couldn't get a good look at him, since all of the lights were off in his room, but he could tell the man was nervous. Too nervous for good intentions.

"Come here, Arcobaleno. So I can see you."

He took a few tentative steps forward, seeming to be regretting ever coming here in the first place. As he got closer, though, his resolve seemed to come back, and by the time he was standing in front of Byakuran, his eyes were shining with a cold hatred that Byakuran knew all too well.

"Hm~ I like that look. What's your name, Arcobaleno?"

The model blinked once. "Mammon." If he was offended that Byakuran didn't know his name, he didn't show it. Byakuran had to stop himself from smirking.

_Well, maybe he isn't worthless…_

He leaned back in his chair, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair and clasping his hands in front of his face. "Well? What do you wish to discuss?"

Mammon shifted his weight again, apparently thinking about his words before he spoke.

"I know you want to kill Fran Sachi."

If Byakuran was smirking before, he was far from it now. His lips dipped into a confused frown, which was quickly becoming an angry scowl. How? How had this twig of a child found out about everything he was striving to accomplish? He had told no one…

"I overheard them talking. The Varia. They're close to Sachi, and they suspect you."

Byakuran snorted in disbelief. "Suspect me? How could they? They have no proof…"

Mammon actually rolled his eyes. "The internet is all its age these days. There are headlines about the murder you performed all those years ago, and pictures of your capture. Fran found them, obviously. I'd suspect you too, if I were him."

Byakuran cursed quietly. So the boy's nervousness the night before hadn't been just an act. He actually _did_ know. Byakuran had convinced himself that the boy was simply cautious, wary of strangers, which was why he had lied about his life. The jibe he had given him at the end – _Give my regards to Belphegor-kun_ – had been another test, to see if he reacted. But the little snake was so good at hiding his emotions, Byakuran hadn't been able to tell.

So the kid knew. And so did the Varia. It wasn't the end of his world.

Byakuran shrugged his shoulders and stared at Mammon with cold eyes. "The news is helpful, but nothing too important. It still doesn't explain why you're here…"

Mammon sighed and ran a hand through the few purple strands that hung in front of his face. "Look. I want in. I'll help you. I can sneak around this mansion without anyone noticing me, and I can get you more information about the kid, his friends, anything you want." He paused to gauge Byakuran's reaction. The white-haired man narrowed his eyes.

"What's the catch?"

Mammon bit his lip.

"I want a favor."

Byakuran sighed. "Of course you do. People don't kill people for free…"

There were a few beats of silence as his words sank in. Byakuran grew impatient and clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Well? What do you want?"

Mammon was staring at the floor intently, as if it would reveal to him all the secrets of the world. He looked like a child. When he raised his head, however, his eyes were cold and flat, with no childish light in them at all.

"I want you to kill Lal Milch."

(line)

"Okay, okay, how about this one?"

Fran watched with feigned boredom as Yamamoto climbed across Gokudera's lap and into the center of the room. He stood there in silence for a good fifteen seconds before he sucked in a huge lungful of air, stuck his arm up in the air, and waved it around as he yelled.

"VRAIT! VRAIT VRAIT VRAIT VRAIT VRAIIIT!"

The entire room burst into hysterical laughter. Even Fran had a hard time keeping it under control. Something about Yamamoto broke down barriers, whether they were emotional or physical. The idiot in question was running around the room, waving his arm and screaming his fool head off. Even his huge screams couldn't match the real thing, though.

"VRAIT, YOU BRAT! YOU THINK YOU CAN MAKE FUN OF ME? WHERE'S YOU SWORD, KID? LET'S TAKE THIS TO THE FIELD!"

Squalo was on his feet, bellowing right back at the black haired man, who was laughing now, and still running around.

"Haha sword? But you can't fight with that hand! I'd destroy you!"

"VRAIT! I'D TAPE IT TO MY WRIST AND FIGHT YOU LIKE THAT, YOU BRAT! AND I'D WIN!"

And so on. Etcetera. Ad nauseum. Fran was beginning to pick up on the thought process of these two. Neither of them knew when to give it up. They both ran out of the room, screaming their brains out and tripping over their own feet in their haste. The silence that was left in their wake was bliss.

Gokudera stretched and yawned. "Well, that was enlightening. Anyone got anything to do? I'm bored."

Bel giggled from across the room.

"Bored already, bomb freak? That was fast…shi shi shi~"

Gokudera decided to ignore the blonde, choosing instead to sigh and tilt his head back in annoyance. His pale green eyes closed for an instant before he was back in a sitting position, staring at everyone with an inquisitive stare.

"Well?"

It was the little curly haired kid who spoke up. "We could go shopping…"

Gokudera snorted and rolled his eyes, voicing his extreme disinterest in the idea. "C'mon, could you be more stereotypical? A model who loves to shop. Never saw that one coming…"

The teen pouted, one eye drooping into a bored expression. "You didn't have to be mean about it…"

Fran looked around the room, fighting to keep his stoic expression as he spoke.

"I think it's a great idea."

Once again, every head turned to look at the green-haired teen. Fran was getting a little tired of being in the spotlight, but he sighed mentally and pushed on through. He brought in on himself, after all.

"I wouldn't mind getting out of this mansion. I mean, have any of you stepped foot outside since you got here?" The room was awkwardly silent. Basil raised his hand tentatively.

"I went to the grocery store once…"

Fran resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Precisely. None of us have been outside in a while. It would be good, I think. And safety in numbers, right? It's not like anything will happen…"

_Yeah, except you could die…_

Fran ignored the pessimistic voice in his head, squashing it down with reason.

_I'm in more danger if I stay in this mansion. _

"I don't know. I don't mind staying here. I live here, you know. I'm used to it." Gokudera still didn't seem sold on the idea.

Fran sighed quietly. "There are other things to do at the mall besides shop. There's food, a movie theatre, and sometimes an arcade, too. So you don't have to put your manliness at stake, Gokudera. No one will think less of you for going." He didn't have to turn around to see that Gokudera was blushing; the indignant sounds he was making were proof enough. Fran cast his cool gaze around the room, please to see that most of the models were agreeing with him. Only Reborn, Xanxus, and Hibari were emotionless. Everyone else seemed excited.

The teen shrugged his shoulders. "Then again, you can always just not go. It's not like you're forced to go. I say we put it to a vote. All in favor, hands up."

All hands went up, apart from Reborn, Xanxus, Gokudera, and Colonello, who was still in his own world. Fran raised his own hand as well, counting quickly in his mind.

_I win._

"4 no's, 8 yes'. Let's go, then."

(line)

Fran had thought that the mall was big – he had a few vague memories of shopping here when he was younger – but he hadn't quite remembered it like this. The mall was enormous, full of stairwells, escalators, and row after row of huge stores, like Forever 21, H&M, and Aeropostale, to name but three. Fran knew that his eyes were wide, like a kid in a candy shop, but he didn't care. He was trying to wrap his mind around how huge this building was…

Someone beside him snorted. "Better close your mouth, kid. Wouldn't wanna catch any bugs…" Fran snapped his mouth closed immediately, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

"Sorry."

"Shi shi shi…but he's a frog! Frogs like bugs, bomb freak. Didn't you know that?"

Yes, Gokudera had decided to come along after all. The group had run into Yamamoto and Squalo bickering in the hallway on their way out, and invited them to come as well. Once the silver haired man found out that his dark haired companion was going, he immediately joined the group.

"Shopping isn't really all that bad…" he had tried to argue, but everyone knew why he had changed his mind.

The present Gokudera glanced over his shoulder at the blonde, glaring daggers at him. Bel just shrugged, his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face. Fran ignored them both, and concentrated on finding a map. He could get really lost in a place this big…

As he suspected, looking at the map only made him feel more insignificant. He turned to face the group, his face blank and his voice a deadpan as he spoke.

"I…have no idea…where we are."

"Oi, Frog…you see that red box there? The one that says 'You Are Here'? That's where we are. Shi shi shi~…"

"Oh…" And of course, now that Fran knew what he was looking for, he could easily see when the marker was. He tried to fight down the blush that was quickly covering his cheeks.

"Well that's…convenient."

Someone's hand was on his shoulder. Fran looked over, only to come face to face with heterochromatic eyes. His own aqua eyes widened in surprise, and he jerked out of Mukuro's grasp. Old friend he might be, but Mukuro's involvement with Byakuran made him an enemy. And Fran wanted nothing to do with him.

If Mukuro was surprised by the teen's reaction, he didn't show it. He simply smiled sadly, and pushed the teen out from in front of the map.

"Let me figure this out. You go stand over by Bel." Fran started to take another step back, but the other man grabbed his arm.

Mukuro glanced over his shoulder once before adding, in a low voice, "You aren't safe here."

And just like that, all the fun was gone from the day. Fran slipped into Bel's shadow without a word, ignoring the blonde's curious glance. He darted his gaze around the group, wondering if any of them could be a spy for Byakuran.

_Well, there's the obvious…but he just…_

The teen returned his gaze to Mukuro, who was standing in front of the map, hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. He was the enemy, but he had just warned him of danger. Unless, of course, there _was _no danger, and Mukuro was just messing with him…but why would he do that? Fran had to restrain himself from holding his head between his hands. It was all so confusing.

A flash of green caught his eye, and Fran jerked his head around to see. The man standing in the middle of the crowded room was tall, and just flamboyant enough to be stylish. His green eye shadow stood out on his pale skin, and his light green hair fell in waves to his lower back, despite being pulled back into a ponytail. Enormous gold earrings rested in his ears, and his piercing eyes found Fran's stare without fail. He smirked once before taking a step back, and disappearing like smoke into the crowd. When Fran blinked, he was completely gone.

"Oya, oya…little one, are you alright?"

Fran whipped his head back around, eyeing the group with carefully controlled surprise. Time had passed, it seemed, while he was locked in a stare with the strange man. Everyone had shifted; Gokudera now stood with Yamamoto, Hibari, and Tsuna. I-pin, Lambo, and Basil were already walking away from the larger group, engaged in conversation and giggling. Reborn and Colonello were also walking away, in a different direction from the three teenagers, but they were also engaged in conversation. Which left Squalo, Bel, Mukuro, and Fran standing in front of the map – Xanxus had stayed at the mansion – with the three older males looking at the teen expectantly. Fran blinked, shaking his head from side to side and shrugging.

"Sorry. I zoned out."

He didn't notice the three males each shoot him a worried look. He shuffled his feet for a few seconds before lifting his head.

"So…where are we going?"

Bel giggled. "Shi shi shi. We're gonna buy you new clothes, Froggy. Don't try to hide it. You've worn that shirt twice since we got here. You need more clothes."

Fran glanced down at his black t-shirt. He peered at the blonde through a few strands of green hair, raising an eyebrow at him

"Maybe I just really like this shirt."

Bel shrugged. "Doesn't matter. We're buying you new clothes anyway. Let's go."

(line)

_"Nii-san?"_

_ Mukuro gasped, turning on his heel in an instant. This shouldn't be happening here. He was in the middle of a mall, with three others. How…?_

_ "Nii-san…why have you been ignoring me? Did I do something wrong?"_

_ Mukuro could only stare at the girl in front of him in shock. Around him, it was as if time had stopped; people were frozen in a second of time, halfway between movement and standing still. Only he and his apparition could move in this fragment of the world. _

_ "Mukuro-sama. Look at me."_

_ But he was looking at her. He could do nothing but stare._

_ In a softer voice, she added, "You know what I mean."_

_ He winced, but forced himself to follow her words. He raised his head slowly, and his differently colored eyes met hers. They were glinting with unshed tears, and her voice quivered when she spoke._

_ "Why?"_

_ He was silent. He couldn't speak to her, not after what he had done. No after what had happened. He let his head drop again, unable to keep her gaze. He didn't see the tear that slid down her cheek, and he didn't see her eyes harden to amethyst and ruby. In an instant, she had changed from an innocent child to a determined woman. _

_ And he hadn't seen it._

_ "Mukuro. Would you _look_ at me?"_

_ Again, the force of her words brought his eyes up to hers. He never could refuse her, in the long run, even when he had been strong. Now that he was broken, it was all too easy._

_ Her gaze was soft again. "What happened to you, nii-san?"_

_ His lips parted, and he finally spoke. _

_ "You died."_

_ It was her turn to be silent. Her eyes darkened, and she reached out a hand to the side. The air shimmered slightly, and with a small electrical shock, a trident appeared in her grasp. She swung the weapon back around, pointing its lethal tips toward her startled older brother, and muttered quietly._

_ "You're weak."_

_ She charged forward, the deadly points aimed at his chest._

(line)

Fran was slowly getting used to the mass of people around him. He had learned, after a few fatally embarrassing mishaps, how to navigate through the crowds without bumping into anyone. While Squalo and Bel laughed at his attempts to stay out of everyone's way, Mukuro was oddly silent. In all the time they had been walking, he hadn't said a word. He had a strangely vacant expression on his face, as if he were thinking hard about something, so Fran decided it was best not to disturb him. He still didn't know what to make of the man's swaying alliance, so he figured it was for the best.

"Shi shi shi, Froggy, let's go in here!"

The group stopped in front of the store, peering inside curiously. Fran couldn't really see much of anything, since the store was so dark, but from what he could see, he knew he did _not_ want to go inside. Bel wasn't giving him much of a choice, though, and before he knew it, Fran was standing in the middle of the darkened shop, trying to piece together exactly _how_ he had gotten there. Squalo and Mukuro, he noticed, had stayed outside.

_Smart move…_

Bel still had a hold on him, and he was still pulling him deeper into the store. He was muttering to himself under his breath.

"I know it's here somewhere…"

Fran decided not to ask. He had the feeling he would find out soon, anyway. Bel's triumphant cry a few seconds later confirmed it. The grip on his arm released, and Fran stopped moving immediately, suddenly in charge of his own body again. He stood awkwardly alone, wondering where the slightly hyperactive blonde had disappeared to. He rubbed his wrist a little, telling himself that he was just trying to get the blood flowing again.

In all honesty, though, he missed the feeling of Bel's grasp.

_What's wrong with me?_

"Shi shi shi…oi. Frog. Look here."

His voice came from behind the teen, who turned around in surprise, letting his emotion show through for a fraction of a second. Bel was standing there with a small smile on his face, holding up two shirts. One was pure white, with a pair of intricate black wings spread across the back. The other was the exact opposite; black, with white wings. Fran stood there in silent confusion, not quite grasping what Bel wanted him to do. The blonde seemed to sense this, for he stepped closer and said, "Pick one. The other will be mine."

Understanding flashed across Fran's features, and he reached out to grab one of the shirts. He grabbed the white one, holding the soft material in his hands and inspecting it closely.

He didn't hate it. He never would have thought he would like anything in this store, but Bel had found something in under a minute. He glanced up at the blonde, who was still smiling softly. He wasn't grinning, or smirking, or laughing; he was smiling. And Fran could tell he was staring at him through his blonde bangs, his hidden eyes travelling across his face, and leaving a trail of heat that Fran could actually feel.

He looked away, away from the intense gaze. He could still feel it, though. Nothing could change that.

"Th-thank you, Bel-senpai. It's very…me." He glanced back up. Bel was still smiling.

"Shi shi. I thought so."

There were a few beats of silence between them, before Bel spoke again.

"Oi. Froggy."

Fran jerked his head up immediately, and almost didn't register the feeling of a pair of cool lips brushing against his own. By the time he realized what was happening, Bel had pulled back, still smiling. He brushed a few strands of green hair from the teen's eyes before straightening up and walking away to the register. It took Fran a few seconds to realize that he was carrying both shirts again. The blonde paused for a second, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk.

"C'mon, Froggy. Let's go."

Fran struggled to fight down his blush before they left the store, but he didn't succeed. He had to deal with Squalo's incessant pestering for the rest of the trip.

Mukuro remained silent.

(line)

_"Hm~ This had better be good news, Kikyo."_

The green haired man smirked, rolling the vial he was holding around in his palm. "I left Zakuro to watch the kid while I went to go get that present you wanted. Just letting you know that I got it successfully." He held the phone close to his ear, waiting expectantly for the other man's response.

"_...That is good news. Good work, Kikyo. Now, bringing it to me immediately. You know how much I love presents."_

Kikyo smiled, pocketing the vial and finishing the phone call.

"Right away, Byakuran-sama."

The call ended with a click, and the green haired man shook his head slightly.

_Always so dramatic._

He walked away without another word, back towards the mansion and his white-haired leader, being sure to keep a protective hand around the vial the entire way there.

(line)

_Mukuro sidestepped, and dodged another swing of the girl's trident. They were both panting heavily, but neither had any injuries. It had occurred to Mukuro sometime during their fight that Nagi wasn't really trying to hurt him. She had other motives. _

_ "Nagi, what – "_

_ She didn't let him finish. "My name isn't Nagi, nii-san! It's Chrome!"_

_ Another swing. Another dodge. _

_ He took a few steps back, out of the range of her trident, and held up his hands in defense. _

_ "Oya, oya…alright. Chrome, then. What do you want from me?"_

_ Chrome lowered her weapon, letting the tip hit the ground with a light click. She stared sadly at the man, her eyes brimming with tears again._

_ "I want you to move on, Mukuro. You can't keep living in the past."_

_ He was about to protest, but a harsh look from her stopped him._

_ "You're making the same mistakes you did all those years ago…"_

_ This time, he was able to retort. "The same mistakes? Oya, Chrome, I am doing everything differently this time. I will not make those mistakes ever again…"_

_ She shook her head, her purple hair flying around her face. "You're falling into his trap again, nii-san. You're making all of the same mistakes. You're just making them differently this time around."_

_ Mukuro could feel his eyes starting to water. He fell to his knees, staring blankly at the floor in front of him. Impossible…_

_ Chrome was kneeling next to him, her small hands resting on his shoulders softly. _

_ "I'm sorry, nii-san."_

_ Mukuro clenched his hands into fists, but he didn't pull away from her touch._

_ "I had to watch you die. That was my punishment, for failing him. I had to stand there and watch him kill you. I swore it would never happen again. How can it be happening now?"_

_ Chrome shook her head. "I can't tell you. All I can say is that if you don't change what you're doing, Tsuna will die. Just like me."_

_ Mukuro whirled his head around, but she was already fading away. _

_ A final whisper reached out to him across the fragment of time, a final message from a ghost of a memory._

_ "Fight back."_

_ And then she was gone._

(line)

By the time they returned to the mansion, it was already dark. Mukuro had snapped out of his reverie sometime during the ride home, and spent the rest of the ride staring pensively out the window. Fran tried to ignore the tears he could see streaming down the other man's cheeks. Tsuna, also, seemed to be ignoring it, but he wasn't doing as good a job. Every few minutes or so, the brunet would glance quickly at Mukuro, and then back to Hibari, who was sitting next to him in the car. If the grey eyed man noticed, he didn't say anything.

The group stumbled into the mansion all at once, each of them carrying a shopping bag and laughing at something Yamamoto had said. It took all of five seconds for the bags to be dumped, and the models to be stretched out on any piece of comfortable furniture they could find.

"Ugh, my feet are killing me! Whose idea was that, again?" Yamamoto leaned his head on the back of the couch he was sitting on, kicking his shoes off as he spoke.

Gokudera shrugged as he sat next to the black haired man. "I don't remember…wasn't mine, though. I know that."

Fran decided it was a good idea not to say anything. He sat down in the chair furthest away from the rest of the group, relieved to finally be able to sit down. He scanned his eyes around the room, as he was used to doing by now, and was the first to notice the shadowy figure standing under the stairwell. He wasn't the only one, though. Bel soon followed, along with Reborn and Mukuro. Colonello noticed as well, but his reaction was very different from everyone else's. Instead of glancing at the others warily, confusedly, he leapt up from his seat with a small laugh, and ran toward the shadow with a smile. He tried to hug the person, but whoever it was dodged the embrace easily, stepping into the light as Colonello fell flat on his face. Now everyone knew of the person's presence, although most were laughing at Colonello's state, rather than wondering who the stranger was. Fran watched the newcomer warily, not knowing if it was another one of Byakuran's cronies.

But when the person turned, Fran was struck with a strong feeling of déjà vu. He felt as if he had seen this woman before, in a picture, or a newspaper. She looked so familiar. Her dark blue hair was cropped short, just above her shoulders, and the cloak she wore masked the rest of her body from view. She surveyed the room with the air of someone who was used to doing so, and she seemed to be constantly on edge.

Colonello was groaning and shifting on the floor by her feet, slinking into a sitting position.

"Lal…that was mean…"

She cast him a glance, not twitching a single muscle in her face as she spoke.

"I warned you. You never listen."

The blonde continued to whine, but Lal turned away from him. She walked over to Reborn, who was smirking underneath his fedora, and sat down next to him. The man turned his head, acknowledging her presence with a nod.

"Lal Milch."

"Reborn. Haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?"

The dark man shrugged, which was apparently all the answer the woman needed. She nodded, settling comfortably into her seat as Colonello slowly regained his dignity. She turned her head to look at the blonde, raising an eyebrow at his dejected expression.

"Well, 'Nello? If you're done throwing a pity party, get your ass over here and sit down. I'm not keeping this seat open for just anyone, you know."

All of a sudden, the blonde was all smiles again. He literally jumped into the seat next to Lal, casting an arm around her shoulders and grinning. She rolled her eyes.

Fran finally knew what Colonello had been thinking about all day. He had a sharp comment on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. He didn't want to offend their guest, who he still didn't know anything about. He still couldn't place where he had seen her before. Best keep his mouth closed.

As if she could hear his thoughts, Lal turned her head in Fran's direction. For a fraction of a second, dark eyes met green ones, and both widened in recognition. They both opened their mouths to speak, but they were interrupted by Lussuria's nasal voice.

"Everyone~! Supper's on the table. And Lal, you'd better come in here too. I know how anti-social you are…" The woman in question scowled at the words, while everyone else laughed. Lussuria walked into the room, his hands on his hips, and his multi-colored hair flopping into his face.

"Well? Hurry up! Oh, and Fran-chan, could you help me with the rest of the silverware? I got a little sidetracked." The teen shrugged silently and rose from his seat, ignoring the catcalls from Squalo and Bel. His eyes were still on Lal, who seemingly just had her suspicion confirmed. And if her idea was right, then so was his.

She had been one of his father's co-workers. She was around the house all the time, and one of his mother's greatest friends, even though she had only been a teenager at the time. As Fran set out the remainder of the silverware for their meal, his thoughts were all screaming for attention in his mind. One thought especially stood out from the crowd.

_What is she doing here now?_

(line)

"Alright. Anyone want to _explain_ to me how the heir to CEDEF was sitting here this entire time, and no one let me know?"

Lal's face was deceivingly cool, but her tone was scathing. Fran winced, even though he wasn't the recipient of the heated words. No, the words were aimed at everyone else in the room. Bel, Squalo, Xanxus, Reborn, Colonello, Basil, and Tsuna all winced, obviously having been on the receiving end of Lal's anger before.

"Well…we kinda didn't know either…" Colonello tried to speak up, but Lal sent him a withering glance that shut him up immediately. She had been extremely tense during dinner, which Fran had attributed to her dislike of people, but now it seemed like she was just bottling up her anger for this moment. She glared around the room, meeting the eyes of every single person, including Fran himself. He tried his hardest to keep her gaze, but she was terrifying. Just as he was about to look away, she dropped the stare. She did another sweep of the room, the scowl on her face deepening with every second.

"Well? Anyone?"

No one spoke, and no one moved. Basil made the mistake of shifting his weight, and Lal's furious stare locked onto him immediately.

"And you! You _work_ for CEDEF! How could you not know?"

In Basil's credit, he didn't take it sitting down. "I'm new to this company! How the hell was I supposed to recognize Sachi's son? He was dead before I worked here!" Lal turned her fury away from him and onto Tsuna.

"And your father is the current CPO! And you had no clue?" Tsuna just shook his head, his eyes holding a slight orange light. Reborn was standing next to him, his hand on his shoulder. Whether it was comfort or restraint, Fran couldn't tell.

He figured it was time for him to speak up. He cleared his throat, unnecessarily, since the room was dead silent anyway, but every eye in to room locked on him. Lal stared at him in surprise, her eyebrows raised into her hairline, but she let him speak.

"They didn't know. I just found out the other day. The only ones who know are Xanxus, Squalo, Belphegor, Lussuria, and Levi. Well, and Byakuran, which is a bit of a problem, but –"

Lal cut him off. "Wait…Byakuran? White hair, purple tattoo, superiority complex, thinks he's god's gift to mankind?" Fran nodded. Lal snorted in disbelief. "That piece of shit is here? No kidding…huh. Well, that complicates things…"

Fran nodded. "Especially since he's trying to kill me."

The room fell silent again. Lal turned to stare at the teenager, who stared back at her evenly. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before sound actually came out.

"Pardon?"

Fran shrugged, trying to being nonchalant about it. "He's tried to kill me twice already. Indirectly, of course, but I'm long overdue for another attempt. We've gotten it all figured out. I'm the rightful heir of CEDEF, and he murdered my parents. It only makes sense that he would come after me now."

La looked stunned. "I mean…I knew he was mad that your father fired him, but…to go as far as to murder him? And then to go after you…Well, it does fit his character, that's for sure…" She seemed to be digesting the new information. A heavy silence fell over the room as she thought, tapping her foot rapidly against the floor. After what seemed like hours, she looked up again, a plan shining in her eyes.

"Well, I'm already here on protective orders. I was supposed to protect Tsuna – seems like CEDEF thinks something is going to happen to him – but I can easily protect you too. Don't worry kid. I've got you. You'll be safe, as long as I can help it. Your father was a brilliant man. I miss him a great deal. The least I can do is protect his son."

There was a loud knock on the door, which blew open before anyone had the chance to respond. A small, thing, hyperactive ball of human being ran into the room, a biker helmet covering his head, and a purple jumpsuit covering the rest of him. He cast his gaze around the room, whipping his head from side to side until he locked eyes with Reborn. The purple man shrieked, making Fran and multiple others practically jump out of their skins.

"Reborn! I've found you! I challenge you to a duel! Right now! Today is the day I finally beat you!" Reborn didn't reply; he just stood up and kicked the man in the ass with such proficiency, he had to have had years of practice. The man yowled, holding his injured area and high-tailing it out of the room, spitting out curse words as he went. He called out over his shoulder what he probably thought was a brilliant retort.

"I'm gonna tell Lussuria on you! And then you won't be able to come to Lal's welcoming party! Ha ha ha!"

And then the room was silent once more. The mood was completely broken. Tsuna sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation. When he looked up, his eyes were tired.

"Well, Lal, sounds like we're throwing a party for you. Why don't you all come into the main room? I'm sure Lussuria has prepared something brilliant and sparkly."

The room chuckled softly, and everyone filed out one by one. Lal ended up next to Fran somehow, and she muttered low some words meant only for him.

"Be careful tonight. Byakuran will be on high alert now that I'm here. I don't know what he's going to do."

They left to room in silence.

(line)

A few hours later, everyone was having a good time. Someone had thought it was a good idea to bring silly string into the mix, and now the room was dripping in chemicals and smelled like a kindergarten classroom. No one seemed to mind, though. They were either drunk or well on their way to getting there. Fran was only slightly tipsy, since someone – he couldn't remember who – had convinced him to try a glass of champagne. It was sweet and cold, and left him feeling better than he had in a while.

He didn't notice, when he set his glass down, the white haired man coming up behind him. He didn't notice the vial in his hands, uncorked and filled to the brim. He didn't notice, either, a few seconds later, when the man had walked by, that the vial was now empty. And when he lifted the champagne to his lips once more, he didn't notice the drug laced in with the alcohol.

He didn't notice, and neither did anyone else.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/n: 'Allo, mates. It's been a while, hasn't it? My sincerest apologies. Studying for final exams, taking AP's, taking final exams, and finishing my Junior year of highschool filled up my entire schedule, so I had no time to write. I think I can make it up to you, though! This chapter is over 11,000 words long. (That's a lot of words). Plus, I'm on vacation, so I can write whenever my muse hits me. Which may or may not be more often than it already has. My muse is a finicky creature. **

**Anyway. Thanks for putting up with me, guys. It really means a lot that people still read this story.**

**Thank you for all the reviews! I'm sorry I couldn't reply to everyone, but my intentions are good. I really appreciate your positive feedback. Thank you!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own KHR. ****That's Akira Amano. Sorry guys. **

**So, without furhter ado: chapter 11, ladies and gents.**

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><p>The mansion finally fell silent sometime around three in the morning. The remains of the party were scattered all around the main hall; empty bottles, puddles of alcohol, and stray pieces of food from when Colonello had started a food fight. Many of the models were also strewn haphazardly around the room, having found the strangest places to pass out. Colonello, for example, was hanging upside down on one of the chairs, his blonde hair just brushing the carpet as he breathed in and out. How he was staying on the chair in the first place was a mystery to the only awake person in the room. He smirked, turning away from the mess without another thought, and started up the main stairs.<p>

Some of the models had made it to their rooms before the party ended. The amount of closed doors in the hall on the second floor, though, made it clear that not many had made that decision. The man passed a couple of the doorways, both closed and open, and settled in front of one of the closed ones. He tried the knob, knowing it wouldn't be that easy. It clicked and clacked in his hand when he tried to turn it. Locked.

Not worried in the least, the man fished in the pocket of his white hoodie for a few seconds, and pulled out a small screwdriver. These kinds of doors were poorly made, for the screws that held the doorknob together were on the outside of the door; meaning that anyone with enough ambition could break in to any room in the mansion, locked or no.

A few minutes later found the man standing silently in the once-locked room, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie. The model sleeping quietly in the bed was completely unaware of his visitor. He breathed evenly in and out, his alcohol induced sleep keeping him under a thick blanket of lethargy. It made the intruder's job all too easy.

He slinked over to the sleeping model and bent over him until his lips hovered just above his ear. With the soft sound of lies on his lips, he began to whisper poison.

* * *

><p>Fran couldn't place where he was. He felt like he was floating, weightless in the cloudy mist that was his mind. He couldn't see. He couldn't move. He couldn't think. What was going on?<p>

He couldn't remember how he had gotten to this misty nowhere. He didn't feel any panic at his helplessness. He had the feeling that something was going to happen, that someone was going to come and help him…

"Fran."

The voice shattered through his nothingness. Gravity returned, and Fran's feet touched lightly down on the ground – cool tile, by the feel of it against his bare feet. He could feel his clothes again as they settled around his body, as his hair tickled his chin and neck. His passiveness, however, did not change. He was still completely happy to be standing still, completely convinced that the voice in his head would help him.

_Wait…whose voice…_

The mist forced the thoughts from his head, and in an instant they were gone as if they had never existed. He shouldn't worry. He was safe here. The mist and the voice would get rid of any danger he had ever faced…

"Excellent. You're already so obedient. And here I'd thought you would put up a fight…"

_What…fighting? Why would I do that?_

He shook his head, trying to – he didn't know what. The mist was still there, still covering his thought process in a thick muck that refused to ebb. Again, his previous thoughts were forgotten, and peace returned to his mind. He wasn't in danger here. He was safe.

"You're safe. I can protect you. But out there, out there is dangerous, Fran."

_Out there? Where is that?_

He shook his head again. _I have to get – _Get where? He'd forgotten again. He was peaceful. He was safe. The mist was warm, caressing his cheek and sifting through his eyelashes. His ears were filled with the hypnotic sound of the unknown voice, cooing and whispering him truths.

"Out there everyone is your enemy. Everyone but me. I am your only friend, Fran. Do you understand?"

_Where is out there? What is –_

"Do you understand?" This time the voice was a little more forceful, and the mist thickened around his head, wafting into his ears and curling around his mind. Fran was at peace. He spoke for the first time.

"Of course I understand. You've always been my friend. You're the only one who won't hurt me."

The voice sounded smug when it spoke again. "Excellent, Fran. Excellent. Now remember, what did I send you here to do?"

Fran thought hard, his forehead scrunching together. The mist cleared as soon as his conscious thought broke through, and he found the answer immediately.

"You sent me to spy on the Varia."

The voice tsk-ed. "Almost, but not quite, Fran. Keep trying."

Fran tried again, driving deeper into his own mind, searching for the correct answer. The mist only let him go in one direction, down one path. He knew that if he followed the mist, he would get the answer. And there it was.

"You need me to ki –"

"Ah ah ah. Don't say it. Just know you have to do it. Make it look natural, Fran. I'm counting on you."

The voice wanted him to do a good job. Fran nodded contentedly, and the mist re-enveloped his mind, and he was at peace again. The gravity was gone again, and he was floating. The voice had returned to its home. He had returned to his lost state of contentment. The mist would keep him safe. The mist would protect him. The voice was his only friend. Everyone else was an enemy. He had a mission. And he had to fulfill it without fail.

* * *

><p>Hours had passed. Byakuran was leaning back in his comfortable chair, eyeing the glowing computer screen with growing annoyance. He had Fran Sachi under his thumb. The Varia were oblivious to the extensiveness of his schemes, and Lal was well on her way to death. Tsuna was collateral damage that would be dealt with soon, and Mukuro was a broken doll of a man, simply waiting to be pulled by the right strings. Mammon was proving a valuable asset, already having bled out everything he knew about the Varia.<p>

Byakuran now knew all that Mammon knew. He knew that Belphegor had been diagnosed with mild schizophrenia, and had a dark past that only the very rich or the very unfortunate have to bear. Squalo had a soft spot for practically everyone on the planet, and Xanxus had trained with the mafia for an unknown number of years. Of the entire group, he was the most dangerous. Lussuria, for all his sparkles and happiness, had an intelligence web of sorts throughout the entire modeling community and beyond. How someone as influential as he had ended up as the manager of a spiraling modeling group was lost on Byakuran, but he pegged Lussuria as someone else to watch out for. His way with words and his connections made him just as dangerous as Xanxus, in his own way. And Levi was just useless. Byakuran had already known this, but Mammon had confirmed it. He was no threat.

Byakuran flicked a part of his fingernail at the screen. All the pieces were lined up for his victory. He had Mammon. He had Fran. He had Mukuro. Lal and Tsuna were drawing closer to death with each passing second. There was no way he could lose.

So why was he so certain something was wrong?

He went over his mental list again and again, accepting the fact that he was getting no sleep that night, since the night had already merged into dawn. He had spent the majority of the evening at Fran's bedside, whispering to him in his drug induced sleep. The drug was a special concoction that only a powerful few even knew about, let alone had access to. It allowed for a brief window of time in which the victim's memories were up for grabs. If the window was hit, then the attacker could rearrange the victim's perception of the world, and mold his mind into whatever state he may wish. Once awake, the victim wouldn't realize anything amiss. His new mentality would be his only mentality. Only those trained in intense mental gymnastics could even hope to break away from the drug's influence, and Fran was not one such person.

So he had Fran. Byakuran ticked down his list, assuring himself that yes, he had everyone in place. Everything was perfect.

So why? Why was he so certain something was amiss?

He scowled in disgust, shutting the computer down with a savage jab and pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Enough. No more. He couldn't plan himself into a corner that didn't exist. Everything was perfect. Nothing was wrong.

He forced himself to his bed, laying there in silence as his hyperactive brain continuously ticked through everything, over and over. Nothing was wrong. Something had to be wrong. Nothing was wrong. Something had to be wrong. Nothing was wrong…

So, in order to calm his mind, Byakuran went to the one chain of memory that he tried to avoid at all costs.

The memories leading up to the day he killed Sachi, CEDEF's CEO.

* * *

><p><em>"And your name, young man?"<em>

_ The white haired teenager stared at the desk in front of him, trying to keep down his nausea as he answered. "Byakuran, sir. Byakuran Kami."_

_ The man before him chuckled lightly. "Kami, hm? That's quite a name for such a young man…now, Mr. Kami, why do you want this job?" _

_ Byakuran grit his teeth, now trying to keep back nausea and a nasty retort. He hated it when people made fun of his name. And he had hated this man the instant he walked into the interview. With his unreadable expression, cool manner, and impenetrable gaze, Byakuran felt like the man could see right through him and deep into him at the same time. It was a very uncomfortable feeling. _

_ "Mr. Kami?"_

_ Byakuran forced his reply through his teeth. "CEDEF is the main peace-keeping organization between countries all over the world. I want to see new places, new government, new cultures. I want to understand the world. All of the world. Not just a little portion of it. Why do governments fail? What's the best way to rule a population? What makes it so? Why are people raised so differently? What ties the worlds together? I want to know the answers to these questions. This job can get me to them. That's why I want this job. Sir" He added on as an afterthought, but the man in front of him didn't even notice. He seemed deep in thought, even slightly worried. Byakuran cursed himself mentally. He hadn't meant to give that much away, but he had been nervous, and slipped up. Now the man was wary of his motives. Even if he was hired, he would always be watched…_

_ "One more thing, Mr. Kami. You seem very interested in government and power. Here at CEDEF, the only power we hold is that of coercion and conversation. Are you willing to handle that?"_

_ Byakuran could see what he was hinting at. Again, he cursed himself mentally, but externally, he plastered a small smile to his face. _

_ "Of course, Sir."_

_ The man rose, extending his hand as his light green hair pooled around his shoulders._

_ "Then welcome to the company, Mr. Kami. You start on Monday."_

_ Byakuran stood, and shook the man's hand. _

_ "Thank you, Mr. Sachi. You won't regret your decision."_

* * *

><p><em>(Time passing – Fran's age: newborn)<em>

* * *

><p><em>"You bastard! How did you even get into this company? You're a fucking retard!"<em>

_ Byakuran pressed his lips together until they were white from blood loss. He had slipped up enormously, but he wasn't about to make his situation any worse with a couple scathing words to the screaming man in front of him. He was just a nameless overlord, someone of higher status than he, the new recruit. And he was loudly pointing out every mistake that the white haired man had ever made at the company. But Byakuran could do nothing but stand there and take it. _

_ "That was the ambassador from the Italian Mafia! And you just insulted him, his entire cooperation, and his country! How did Mr. Sachi even _consider_ letting you into this company? You just screwed up the most important case we've ever taken on, and you did it all in a single sentence! How? How could you destroy years of work with just a few words? You fucking idiot!"_

_ He couldn't take any more. Just as Byakuran was ready to punch the man right in his filthy mouth, a light but strong touch on his shoulder stilled him. Byakuran knew it was his boss without even having to look. He was in real shit now…_

_ "What's going on here?"_

_ It was a simple question, but his tone was laced with menace. Sachi didn't have a temper to lose, but when he was upset with you, you knew it. Every employee in the room had been on the tail end of Sachi's anger, and no one wanted to rat out the newbie. Byakuran could feel their pity in the silence that followed the boss' comment. Sachi tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for an answer that he knew would never come. _

_ "Mr. Kami, with me. The rest of you, back to work."_

_ The building scuttled back into action, avoiding eye contact with the unlikely duo as they marched back to Sachi's office. Byakuran stared at his shoes, certain that he was going to be fired in the next ten minutes. He was already packing his things in his mind. _

_ The door closed behind them with a soft click, and still Byakuran said nothing. He heard Sachi cross the room and take a seat behind his desk, sighing as he settled into the chair. Silence filled the room. Byakuran hadn't moved from his spot in front of the door. _

_ Sachi, of course, was the one to break the silence._

_ "How old are you, Byakuran?"_

_ The use of his name startled him into answering. "Nineteen, sir."_

_ "Nineteen, huh? Well, Byakuran, when I was nineteen, I was out getting drunk and throwing parties. I certainly wasn't trying to make a career for myself, and I most definitely did not have to be tactful every second of every day. In fact, if I had been in your position today when I was nineteen, I would have been murdered on the spot by that Mafia leader."_

_ Byakuran looked up in surprise, startled in spite of himself. So Sachi already knew. This was it. He was done for. _

_ "Sir?"_

_ Sachi sighed. "Byakuran, you're the youngest person here, aside from Lal Milch. I don't expect you to be perfect. You are young. You make mistakes. Hell, we all do. No matter what my employee was saying back there, this client was not our most important. You made a careless remark. Careless, but honest. Once the initial shock wore off, our client agreed to our terms. Wholeheartedly." Byakuran couldn't believe his ears. _

_ "There's no way…"_

_ Sachi chuckled. "What was your comment again? I want the exact wording, Byakuran."_

_ The white haired teen sighed. "They were talking about trying to move their headquarters to a new location of the city. There was nothing wrong with their current situation, they just wanted to move. It was getting so heated that I just snapped. I said "Why are you wasting our time with something like this?" Apparently, that wasn't the right thing to say…"_

_ Sachi blinked at him, a little stunned. "That's it?"_

_ Byakuran blinked back. "…what do you mean, 'that's it?'. That's what happened…"_

_ Sachi did something that Byakuran was never expecting. He burst into laughter. Tear inducing, gut wrenching laughter. The white haired teen was extremely confused, and stood awkwardly in front of the closed door, unsure of what to do. _

_ Sachi finally waved him forward, wiping tears from his eyes as he calmed down. "My goodness, Byakuran. That's all you said? I'm definitely demoting that employee. That's nothing. Did I ever tell you about the first case I sat in on? It was a rather touchy case about a mob war that was going on in the city depths. When the two sides came in, they had all tried to look nice for the occasion. Well, not nice, exactly. Presentable is a better word. Anyway, they failed tremendously. So much so that when they were all seated, the first words out of my mouth were 'Where did you all get those clothes? You're grandmothers' closets?' Needless to say, that meeting did _not _go well for us. I got hell from my superior afterwards. That was a bad day, and it wasn't the last one, either. So your slip up is minor, even tactful, compared to mine."_

_ Byakuran was trying to wrap his mind around what was being said to him. He wasn't getting fired? _

_ "Mr. Kami, I'm going to reward your winning us this case today. I'm promoting you a level. You now have access to all the low level cases. Congratulations, Byakuran. You're moving up."_

_ Impossible…_

_ Byakuran had entered the room that day certain that he was to be fired. Instead, he walked out with a promotion. This was the first step in his hatred of Sachi._

_ The man was killing him on the inside, killing everything he had ever believed in. He wanted power, absolute power. The ideal that absolute power corrupts absolutely was meaningless to him. He was willing to give up anything, everything for that power. But Sachi was teaching him differently. Teaching him that mistakes were allowed, even praised. Teaching him that power wasn't everything. Byakuran's world was being shaken by this man. _

_And he hated it._

* * *

><p><em>(Time passing – Fran's age: 4)<em>

* * *

><p><em>"Byakuran!"<em>

_ The white haired man looked up, unsurprised to see his boss striding to him with a soft smile on his face. His glasses were hanging from his neck on a thin gold chain that his wife had bought him for Christmas a few weeks ago. His light green hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and his eyes were alight with kindness. _

_ One the outside, Byakuran was pleased to see him. Internally, however, he cringed at the thought of dealing with this man's kindness. It was so sickeningly sweet that it actually made him nauseous. Byakuran hated it._

_ "Hm~? Sachi-sama, to what do I owe the honor of your company?" Byakuran smirked, securing the manila folder he was holding under his arm and turning to face the other man. Sachi's smile never faltered. _

_ "I wanted to congratulate you on your handling of the Russia case the other day. Very professional. You've come a long way."_

_ Byakuran bowed, a little put off by the praise. It wasn't like Sachi to show favoritism, and a visit from the boss was very rare. He tried to fight down the feeling of elation that Sachi's praise brought, but it bubbled to the surface anyway, filling him with a warm, tingly feeling of happiness._

_ "Thank you, sir. I'll continue to keep this company running to your liking."_

_ Sachi smiled wider, patting Byakuran on the shoulder. "I look forward to your progress, Mr. Kami." He turned and continued on his walk to his office, not looking over his shoulder once. _

_ If he had, he would have seen Byakuran's expression darken, and his hands clench into fists at his sides. His eyes sparked with a dark energy, and his teeth were gritted together, much in the semblance of his expression when he first met his future boss. _

_ Sachi made him feel at home. He felt at peace around the man. He felt that power wasn't necessary, that he didn't need to rule to be listened to. He didn't have to use force to make people aware of him. Violence wasn't the answer. Everything Byakuran stood for was being thrown in his face with every passing day. Sachi trusted him more than any one should, and it was making Byakuran physically sick. Every day, coming to work was more and more of a chore. Lal Milch was becoming more and more of a nuisance, rather than the friend she once was. Work, in general, was taxing. And then there was Sachi. Perfect, always smiling Sachi, who had a young son of four at home, and a wife waiting with bated breath for his return every night. He had everything. Everything was perfect. _

_ And Byakuran despised him for it._

* * *

><p><em>(Time passing – Fran's age: 6)<em>

* * *

><p><em>"What's it to you, bitch?"<em>

_ "Byakuran! Watch your mouth!"_

_ "I'll watch my mouth when you shut yours, Lal! I've had enough of our constant babbling!"_

_ "That constant babbling is important to your work, Byakuran! Honestly, sometimes I wonder why you were even hired here. All you've done lately is complain, and balk at your job! If you don't shape up, you'll be fired!" _

_ That set Byakuran on edge. It's true, in the years following his success, Byakuran became less and less enthused at the prospect of working with CEDEF. His clients were unhappy with him, he didn't keep his tongue in check, and his coworkers were angry with him on principle. He was surprised he hadn't been fired already. He had caused so much ruckus at work, he was practically begging Sachi to fire him. This, it seemed, was the final straw. _

_ "Kami. My office. Now."_

_ That voice. The tone he had been waiting for. Byakuran turned with a sick smirk, his mind already moving to the second stage of the plan._

_ Ah. The plan. He had a plan, yes. _

_ Sachi was too good. He didn't belong here, on Earth. He didn't belong at CEDEF. His ideals were too…well, idealistic. And as long as he was alive, Byakuran could never rise to complete power. Sachi would always be there, disappointed that his prodigy had turned so sour. _

_ What he didn't realize was that his prodigy was sour from the beginning. _

_ As the office door closed with a small click, Byakuran set into motion a string of events that would eventually result in the death of the man standing sadly in front of him._

_ "Byakuran…I'm sorry. You can't stay here anymore."_

_ Byakuran closed his eyes, reveling in the moment. _

_ "You're fired."_

* * *

><p><em>(Time passing – Fran's age: 9)<em>

* * *

><p><em>The hot summer sun was beating down on him, making his white hair gleam with otherworldly light. His lavender eyes were brimming with excitement. This was the day. Everything he had done had led to this day.<em>

_ He had brought a disguise, of course. It wasn't a very good one, but it would work for his purposes. The wife had no idea who he was. Only Sachi himself would recognize him, and that would be enough. His revenge would be completely. _

_ Revenge? Revenge on what?_

_ Byakuran chuckled. Revenge. Revenge on Sachi for shaking up his ideals. For messing with his head. For trying to teach him that the world was inherently good. That power was a bad thing. That power corrupted. That power was evil. _

_ "That, Sachi, is where you're wrong. Power is everything. Not just evil, but good as well. Not just corruption, but revelation as well. Everything. I have everything."_

_ But as the couple walked out of the church that afternoon, Byakuran wasn't thinking about power. As he walked up to meet them on the steps, he wasn't thinking about good, or evil. As he pulled the gun out from where he had it hidden in his black hoodie, he wasn't thinking about revenge. As he shot the woman first, silencing her screams, he wasn't thinking about anything. Even when he grabbed Sachi by the arm, forcing him to look him in the eyes, he wasn't thinking about anything. He saw those kind teal eyes widen in shock, and then fill with betrayal as a second gunshot rang through the town. His eyes, always so full of pride, were not empty now. Byakuran wanted them to be empty. But even in those last seconds of life, Sachi had hope. Hope that Byakuran, his prodigy, would turn around and believe in peace. He still had hope that the white haired man would abandon power, and follow his path of conversation and coercion. _

_ So as Byakuran let the body of his boss fall to the ground, he felt no completion. His revenge was not complete. _

_ Because in his dying seconds, Sachi had managed to unearth all of Byakuran's doubt and questions about his belief system. And as long as he remembered that hopeful dying gaze, he could never rise to complete power. He was stuck with his incomplete revenge, and the memory of a futile gaze. Power would never be his, unless his revenge was complete. _

_ CEDEF must be his. That meant that he had at least two more murders to carry out. _

_ Fran Sachi, the rightful heir to the company. _

_ And Tsunayoshi Sawada, the son of the current CEO._

* * *

><p>"Byakuran-sama. Fran is waking up."<p>

The soft murmur shattered through his reverie, and the man shot up in uncharacteristic surprise. Mammon was standing in the doorway, his face completely in the light for once. The small purple triangles tattooed under his eyes made him seem eternally sad, and the solemn expression on his face did nothing to help cheer up his mood. His violet eyes were flat, dark, and completely blank. Byakuran sighed quietly, wiping a hand across his eyes as he eradicated the last remnants of his memories from his thoughts. Enough. No more. Not anymore.

"Hm~ Thank you Mammon. You've been most helpful."

At this point, Mammon would usually bow his head and exit the room as silently as he had come, but this time he stayed. He stood in the doorway, his eyes still holding that same, flat look.

"Byakuran-sama, I'm concerned about Mukuro."

That got Byakuran's attention. Mukuro was a key pawn in his game, and he couldn't afford a slip up at this point. He turned a deceptively kind glance to the slight model, turning his face up into a smile. "Oh? What kind of concern?"

Mammon seemed to choose his words carefully. "When he came back from the mall yesterday, he was different. He wasn't as vacant or listless as he has been these past few weeks. I have a feeling something happened…" The model trailed off, obviously not wanting to explain further. Byakuran raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. A thick silence fell over the two. Mammon kept his lips sealed, making it clear that Byakuran was getting nothing else form him on the matter.

The white haired man sighed silently and plastered another grin on his face. "Thank you, Mammon. You may be dismissed. Stay by Fran's side, would you? Be sure to let him know who his enemies are. And don't forget to play nice"

Mammon nodded silently and disappeared from the room. Byakuran smirked and returned to his computer, booting it up with a single keystroke.

_And now, the real games begin._

* * *

><p>Drowning. Fran always had nightmares about drowning. In his dreams, he was always swimming in the middle of the ocean, with no land in sight. As if that weren't enough, the water turned to blood, thick, red, and pungent. Fran could do nothing but sink, drown in the disgusting smell of his parents' blood. Every time he tried to scream, his mouth was filled with the stuff. Just before he died, he woke up, panting and sweating. These nightmares were becoming more and more frequent. But that wasn't the point of this moment.<p>

Fran was slowly coming back to consciousness, but he couldn't figure out if he was alive, dead, or drowning. He felt like he was sinking down, deep down into himself, and being trapped there. His mind was filled with mist, and he was drowning in it. And yet his eyes were open, his lungs were full of air, and his body was shifting around of its own accord. He was not dead. But he certainly didn't feel alive.

_What's…_

"Fran?"

It wasn't the voice he was expecting, but he immediately welcomed the sound. It meant he wasn't dead. He blinked his eyes, reassuring himself that yes, they were open, and tried to force himself into a sitting position. His mind was more than clouded. It was impenetrable, confused, and not working properly. He felt so exposed…

"What…" His voice came out of his throat in a croak. His eyes widened slightly as he tried to clear away the gravelly feeling, clearing his throat to no avail. His visitor walked to his bedside, handing him a tall glass of water.

"Here. This will help. You've been out for a while, you know. I'm not surprised your body doesn't know what to do with itself."

_Out? I've been out? For how long?_

The question must have shone in his eyes, for his visitor immediately responded. "Okay, you haven't been out that long, actually. About fourteen hours. But still, it's enough to throw yourself out of whack." His visitor smiled softly, holding out the water for Fran to take. The green haired teen did so, eyeing his companion with a confused gleam. What was he doing here? Something didn't feel quite right.

After taking a few sips of water, Fran was finally able to use his voice, albeit sparingly. "What are you doing here?"

His companion chuckled quietly, looking slightly offended. "Really, Fran? I'm your best friend. I'm here because I want to be. Why else would I be?" He brushed his purple hair out of his eyes, staring down at him with an intense violet stare that left Fran slightly breathless. What was he saying again?

"You're my best…friend?"

The purple haired boy snorted, rolling his eyes. "Man, you hit your head good, didn't you? Yes, Fran. I'm your best friend. Have been ever since you got here. We really hit it off. Although, all the other assholes in this mansion hate our friendship. They keep trying to take you away from me. They think I'm a bad influence…" Again, he pushed his hair out of his face, and fixed him with a hard stare. Fran blinked, more than a little bit confused with it all.

"Okay…hold up. You said I hit my head?" The boy nodded.

"And I've been asleep for fourteen hours?" Again, he nodded

"And you're my best friend…Mammon. It's Mammon, right?" The boy cracked a grin, obviously pleased.

"Of course my name is Mammon. As if there were any doubt. Man you really hit your head hard…do you feel alright?" Fran blinked as the boy leaned across him, feeling his forehead with the back of his hand. His violet eyes narrowed in concern.

"You feel a little warm…maybe you should go back to sleep, Fran."

The green haired teen blinked, still very confused with it all. On top of everything, his head hadn't cleared at all. It still felt like a blanket had been laid across his thoughts, keeping him from thinking. Mammon spoke again before he could complain about it.

"Your head may feel cloudy for a little bit, but that's to be expected. Don't worry, though, that will wear off. I'll leave you to rest, okay?" Instead of waiting for Fran to answer, the purple haired boy just continued with his train of thought. "I'll bring some food up for you later. You should sleep now, Fran."

Already, Fran could feel his eyes starting to slip shut. His head hurt. His eyes hurt. He just wanted to sleep…

"Oh, and one more thing…" Mammon was already at the door, his silhouette illuminated in the doorway. "Don't trust the blonde one…Belphegor. He's not your friend, no matter what he may say. He really wants to hurt you, Fran. He already did once. Don't talk to him at all, okay?"

Before Fran could even try to respond, Mammon was gone, and he fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>When he woke next, it was night time again. The first thing he noticed was that his head was much, much clearer. It no longer pained him to formulate simple thoughts or questions. There was still a slight pressure behind his eyes, but Fran considered it a huge improvement to before. Secondly, Mammon was back. Already, Fran felt extremely comfortable with the boy. They were best friends, after all. He felt like he'd known him all his life.<p>

Also, more of his memories had returned. He knew where he was, and why he was here. He was a new model trying to make it big. He had come here with a modeling group called the Varia. They had found him, albeit in a very bloody manner, and they weren't exactly what he would call normal. Fran didn't feel comfortable or safe with them. In fact, one of the models had already attacked him multiple times. He knew that he wanted to get out of that group, but he didn't know how. Currently, he was in the Vongola mansion for a modeling competition. This was where he'd met Byakuran and Mammon. Byakuran was the one who had offered him a real shot to the big time. All he had to do was spy on the Varia for him.

There was something else, too. He had to do something else. But every time he tried to concentrate on what that was, his head flared in pain, and he had to abort the thought.

_I'll figure it out eventually._

Mammon didn't notice he was awake. The purple haired man was sitting off to the side of Fran's bed, staring deeply off into space. His vibrant violet eyes were glazed over, making it clear that he was deep in thought. Fran took the glimpse of an opportunity to study his companion. He was short, painfully so, even shorter than Fran, which the teen took an immense amount of pleasure from. He was pretty damn short. This time, his hair was pulled back out of his face, secured in the back of his head with a thick black tie. His clothes were simple, but stylish; black tank top, black jeans, and black boots with just a hint of a heel to them.

Mammon's physical appearance, though interesting, was not what Fran was interested in. Fran picked up on mannerisms. He had taught himself over his years of working as a waiter in the worst part of town. It was easy for him to pick out the troublemakers or the dangerous ones just by looking at the way they walked, talked, and interacted. While Mammon wasn't doing any of those things at the moment, Fran could still figure out some things about his companion's character. There was a tickle at the back of his skull that told him something wasn't quite right. It wasn't a strong tickle by any means; it was practically nonexistent. But it flared slightly whenever he looked at Mammon, so Fran figured that it warranted investigation, at the very least.

Mammon was slouching. It wasn't something that Fran would have pegged in Mammon's character, but he couldn't figure out why he would know that. For some reason, the teen thought that Mammon was very sharp and clean cut, all angles and harsh lines. Slouching didn't seem to fit. But he was slouching, with his legs splayed out in front of him haphazardly. His elbow was propped up on the armrest, and his hand was clenched into a fist under his chin. His head was leaning on his clenched fingers, his hard eyes staring blankly out the window on the far end of the room. His other hand was irritated, tapping out random, frantic melodies on the wooden chair with twitching fingers. There was no rhyme or reason to the movement. He was completely distracted.

His eyes were another thing, Fran found. Although they were glazed over, they were filled with turmoil. Mammon seemed to be in pain, if you were to judge by the look in his eyes. They were swirling, the violet mixing with a shade so dark it was almost black. He was hardly even blinking.

Fran couldn't help but wonder why Mammon was so upset. His brain immediately said that it wasn't any of his business, but that tickle in the back flared again, telling him to take note. So he did. He noted Mammon's expression, his stance, and his eyes. He noted that it didn't seem like something the purple haired man would do. He noted it was out of place.

Then he blinked himself out of his investigation and made a show about 'waking up'.

He shifted and mumbled, moving his legs in large, sweeping movements as he readjusted himself in the bed so that he was facing away from his companion. He yawned loudly, lifting a hand to muss his disheveled green hair, and pushed up into a sitting position. He stretched his arms way up over his head, sighing a little in relief when he heard his shoulders pop.

He made sure his emotionless mask was firmly in place before turning to face the now-attentive violet haired man. Best friend or no, Mammon wasn't getting any emotion from him. The mist in his head was making it very hard to keep his mask in place, though. He wanted to trust Mammon completely, but his instinct told him not to. The tickle was growing stronger, and Fran decided to listen to it, rather than the mist that was becoming more and more present in his thoughts.

"Have a nice nap?" Mammon had a small smirk on his face, but his eyes were still a swirling mess. His fingers had stopped their drumming beat, but his foot had picked it up, tapping out a single, constant beat on the carpeted floor. He was still restless, but he was trying to hide it. Fran took note, but pretended not to notice.

"I had an extremely pleasant nap, thank you very much. At least, I think it was pleasant. I don't remember having a remarkably good time. Since I was asleep and all." Fran swung his legs over the edge of the bed, rising into a standing position as Mammon chuckled softly.

"Alright, Fran, you made your point. Let's get you cleaned up, okay? Looking at you is hurting my eyes." Scoffing at the insult, the green haired teen walked slowly over to the bathroom to start his routine. Much to his surprise, Mammon followed him. Fran tried not to let it show, but with the initial surprise and the lack of control he was having over his mask, the shock was plain on the teen's face. Mammon saw it and chuckled again.

"Man, you're out of it. I always do this. Calm down, I'm not gonna grope you or anything. If I were, I would have done it when you were passed out. Pervert."

Fran let out a small chuckle at that, but his laughter was short lived. He passed his fingers across his lips, his brow furrowing in confusion. His mask was slipping. He had no control. What was going on?

Mammon quickly walked past him into the bathroom, puttering around as he searched for the beginning of Fran's routine. The teen in question lagged behind, his mind carelessly ambling through his thoughts. He wasn't really into makeup or facial washes or anything of the sort, but he did have somewhat of a routine. Brush teeth. Brush hair. Pop pimples. Add a small amount of eyeliner to his eyes. Chew a piece of gum. Get dressed. He showered in the evening, unlike everyone else in the mansion, and therefore always had hot water. He always smirked inwardly when he heard his companions complaining about the "unintentional cold showers" they had to take every morning. Just the other day, Bel had –

The thought stopped him in his tracks. The mist flared up, covering the memory with soupy white fog. For an eternal instant, he couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. He couldn't think. Everything shut down. Fran was reminded of a dream he'd had recently about floating, with no gravity and no sensation. And just like in the dream, he was completely content. He wasn't scared. He knew it was for the best.

When his senses came back, it was as if he had blinked. Everything was the same as it was a second ago.

_What was I thinking about again?_

The mist provided the answer. Belphegor. He was thinking about the blonde model who had attacked him on numerous occasions. The reason why he wanted to leave the Varia. He was terrified of the blonde. He wanted nothing to do with him. He had no fond memories of the man. And Mammon had told him to stay away from Belphegor, which only reinforced his fear. He was dangerous. Fran wanted nothing to do with him.

The tickle in his brain flared up for an instant, stronger than ever before, but the mist immediately stifled it. Fran barely even noticed. He was more preoccupied with Mammon, who was beckoning him over with a cross expression on his face.

"Let's go, slowpoke. We need to get you ready. My eyes are bleeding. You have a shoot with me today, remember?"

That's right. The photo shoot for Mammon's favorite company. He had chosen Fran out of all the rest of the models to accompany him in the shoot. A bubble of excitement raced through the teen's veins. He finally got to model again, this time for a huge cooperation. He was getting his name out there. Byakuran was keeping his promise.

At the thought of the white haired man, the tickle grew into a sharp jab of pain. Fran actually hissed, holding his hand to his head to try and stifle the feeling. The mist responded, covering up the injured area and fighting down the throb until nothing but the mist remained. Fran was safe. Nothing to worry about.

"Fran? You okay?"

The teen glanced up at Mammon with a small smile. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just a headache. So, what're you going to do to me, Mammon? Something gentle, I hope."

The purple haired man smirked, holding up a makeup pen and waving it threateningly.

"Oh, trust me, I will be anything but gentle."

* * *

><p>"Mukuro?"<p>

His voice was soft, sweet, and so beautiful. Mukuro could hardly stand to keep his back turned, but he forced himself to do it. He had to gather his thoughts before he could speak. He didn't want this getting out of hand.

"Mukuro…I can't be angry with you anymore. I saw you crying on the ride home yesterday. What's wrong?"

He had to tell. He had to tell him everything. Mukuro had spent too long under Byakuran's wing. It was clouding his judgment, making him weak, and gullible, and stupid. How could he not have seen? Nagi was right. He was making the same mistakes he did all those years ago.

He turned to face the other man, whose chocolate eyes were filled with concern. It made tears well in Mukuro's own eyes to think that this man could be dead because of him. He fell to his knees, choking down sobs. The other man gasped, running to Mukuro's side and kneeling beside him, holding him in his arms.

"Mukuro! What's going on?"

He didn't respond. He simply reached up and pulled the man into a desperate kiss, holding them together with their lips. If the man was surprised, he didn't let it show. He melted into the sensation, wrapping his arms more firmly around Mukuro and fully participating in the kiss. He knew that it was wrong to play with people's emotions, but in this moment, all of his indecision was obsolete. He knew what he wanted. Finally, he knew who he wanted.

They broke apart, gasping a little, and Mukuro lightly brushed his hand down the man's face. He had to tell him. Even if it meant losing him, he had to tell him.

"Tsunayoshi. Let's go somewhere and talk."

* * *

><p>"I never wanted it to turn out like this. That's the first thing you should know. Everything just fell into place in the wrong way, and nothing went right after that. In truth I gave up trying. But whatever you think of me after this, just know that I didn't mean for it to happen. I never wanted anyone hurt. That's the truth."<p>

_The Kokuyo Gang was renowned throughout the area. They had a reputation for a reason. They were unpredictable. They were trouble makers. But most of all, the leader was kindhearted. The rest of the gang was less so, but they followed their leader's path without argument. The gang was more a vigilante group than anything else. They always had their own interests in mind, though. They never did something for someone else's benefit. That wasn't their way. If, when they performed some act, other people were helped in the process, then fantastic. But their first and only priority was themselves. _

_ Until Nagi had enough of it. _

_ She was kind and beautiful, and quite obviously didn't belong in the group. She was an outcast even among the rest of the gang, but she didn't let it bother her. She had her own way of doing things, different from the gang as a whole. She went out of her way to help people in need. No one could stop her. Not even her brother. _

_ "Nagi, please, listen to me."_

_ The girl ignored him, walking swiftly down the abandoned street, a laundry basket filled with clothes on her hip. She was on one of her charity runs, and had already collected quite a few pieces of clothing for those in need. The man behind her was tripping over himself to try and keep up with her, even though he was a few years older and his legs were longer. Nagi kept her course, blocking out everything around her. _

_ "Nagi! Just wait a minute! I need to talk to you!"_

_ Sighing quietly to herself, she stopped abruptly. Her brother scrambled to stop as well, trying not to run into his sister in the process. I few seconds later found them standing still, just a foot away from each other. Her brother reached out a hand and laid it on her shoulder. _

_ "Nagi…"_

_ "Mukuro. Enough. You're not going to convince me to stop. I want to help. I _need_ to help, and if the rest of the gang doesn't want to participate, fine. I can do it myself. But nothing you say will stop me." She turned her head, almost facing him, but not quite. Mukuro could see the conviction in her eyes._

_ He sighed, releasing her shoulder and watching her walk away. _

_ "I'm sorry, Nagi. I just don't understand."_

…_ … … _

_ Hours later, Nagi returned to the hangout, exhausted but pleased. Mukuro heard her come in, but didn't acknowledge her presence. Ken and Chikusa also ignored her. Only MM took any notice of the girl, and that was only to sneer in her direction before going back to painting her nails a violent red. Nagi crumpled a bit inside, but continued to her room without a word. _

_ They didn't understand her need to help people. For them, it was all about money. Her brother was involved in some pretty serious things at the moment. A drug cartel. A bank robbery. He was even making deals with an escaped convict. Nagi was worried for the gang, but mostly for her brother. She didn't understand why they couldn't see things her way. For every person they harmed on their way to power, she helped three more. Even with Mukuro's kind heart and silver tongue, people got hurt. People got hurt every day. Soon, her brother's kindness wouldn't be enough to save them from disaster, and when that happened, he would have no one to blame but himself. _

…_ … …_

_ "Hm~? What was that, Mukuro-kun? I thought I told you to keep her away from the shelters. That was the deal."_

_ Mukuro tried not to squirm in his seat, but the man in front of him was dangerous, and Mukuro could tell that he was annoyed. It wasn't a very good combination. Dangerous and annoyed. Despite that, Mukuro took a breath and answered the question._

_ "I tried, Byakuran-sama. She won't budge. She wants to help people. Why does that affect you?"_

_ This, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. The temperature in the room dropped about twenty degrees as the man in front of him leaned forward, a small smile on his lips, and stared at him with cool, lavender eyes. _

_ "It affects me because I say it does. You are in no position to question me, Mukuro-kun. I told you what I wanted. I expect you to deliver. You have one more day. After that, if I see that girl in the shelters again, I'll take her. And that is a promise. Do you understand?"_

_ Mukuro nodded, his mouth sandpaper dry._

_ Byakuran smirked and leaned back, clasping his hands in front of him._

_ "I am trying to stage a coup, Mukuro-kun. A coup against one of the most powerful companies on the planet. But in order to do that, I need there to be turmoil on the streets. Which means I need there to be less kindness. Do you understand? When I tear down the homeless shelters, the people will have nowhere to go. They will be forced onto the streets. Some will die, but most of them will get in the way of the daily commutes. The public will get upset. Fight will start. Discord will brew. I'll keep hitting sore spots in society until it's time for me to make my big move. After that, I will have won, and you will be free to do as you will. But until then, you stop that girl, or I will stop her for you. Are we clear?"_

_ Mukuro nodded again, and didn't hesitate to scurry out of the room._

…_ … …_

_ "Nagi, please, you have to listen to me. You can't go out anymore."_

_ "And why not, Mukuro-sama? Why are you so concerned about me helping people? I will never understand, so please, explain it to me again!" Nagi was furious, pacing around the room with a scowl on her beautiful face, her heterochromatic eyes flaring with rage. Mukuro had cornered her, forced her into a room with him and locked the door behind them. They needed to talk, he said. Fine. He could talk, but she wouldn't listen._

_ "Nagi, please. I know you're upset. But trust me when I say you can't go out. It's not safe."_

_ "Of course it's safe! It's a fucking homeless shelter!"_

_ "Nagi! Watch your mouth!"_

_ "Oh, so I can't swear, but you can spew poison with your words? I don't think so! You fucking hypocrite!"_

_ "Nagi!"_

_ "Nii-san!"_

_ They were both screaming at this point, panting heavily, their eyes shooting sparks at each other. Mukuro cursed and turned away. _

_ "You will stay here until I say it is safe to release you. You give me no other choice."_

_ Nagi gasped in betrayal and started to run toward him._

_ "Mukuro! You can't! You can't do this to me!"_

_ The door opened and shut before she could react, and she heard the lock turn into place. She sank to the floor, tears welling in her eyes as the sting of betrayal set in._

_ "Nii-san…"_

…_ … …_

_ Her brother was a fool. She was part of the gang, after all. She wasn't helpless. And she could damn well get out of a locked room on her own. She was an adept locksmith, or had he forgotten? Had all these months of ignoring her clouded his memory? It didn't matter. Getting out of the room was child's play for her. That evening, she was walking the streets again, visiting every homeless shelter on her list. They were so pleases to see her, that it only intensified her brother's betrayal. How could helping these people be so wrong?_

_ She was walking back to the hideout, feeling extremely pleased with herself, when she was grabbed from behind. Her scream was stifled by a rank rag that was forced into her mouth, and he hands were clasped firmly behind her back. The man holding her chuckled softly, leaning down to whisper in her ear. _

_ "I warned your brother to keep you off the streets. He failed. Now, you will both pay the price for disobeying me. Him most of all, since he will live with the guilt of it all. You have it easier. You won't live."_

…_ … …_

_ Nagi was missing. Mukuro went to the room in the morning to find the hinges spread out on the floor and the lock snapped in two. He cursed violently, scrambling for the door. Stupid, stupid, stupid mistake. How could he have overlooked his sister's talent? It had been a small mistake on his part, but it could have cost him his sister. _

_ He didn't even need the note that was nailed to the door of the hideout. He knew where his sister was. He just hoped he wasn't too late._

…_ … … _

_ "I warned you, Mukuro-kun."_

_ That was the first thing he heard when he walked in the door. He almost fell to his knees at the sight before him. His sister was gaged, tied to a chair and drugged. He eyes were glassy, but she seemed to recognize him. He thought he saw her smile softly at him, but he couldn't be sure. The gag was in the way. He turned his attention to the white haired devil beside her, his face darkening with rage._

_ "Let her go. She has nothing to do with this."_

_ "Hm~? But she has everything to do with it. She was part of our deal. I told you to keep her away from the shelters. You failed. Drastically. She has everything to do with this, Mukuro-kun."_

_ Mukuro gritted his teeth in frustration and worry. This was immensely bad. He couldn't think of what to do._

_ "Is there any way that –"_

_ "No. You had your chance. Now you will pay the price."_

_ That was all he said. That was all the warning he had. In the next few seconds, Byakuran had a gun nestled against Nagi's temple. His hand was already on the trigger, the safety disengaged, and a cool smirk on his face. Mukuro stared in horror._

_ "You know my history. You know what I've done. You know I am fully capable of pulling this trigger. And you know that I will. I want you to know, though, that it could have been different. This never would have happened if you hadn't failed. If you had tried harder. Done more. Even if you had acknowledged your sister more than you did. Instead, you ignored her, and let her run free. All this could have been avoided, Mukuro-kun, if you had been more attentive. But you weren't. I want you to understand that before I do what I'm about to do. Do you?"_

_ Mukuro couldn't respond. He could only stare at his sister in shock. She wasn't afraid. Maybe it was the drugs, or maybe she was ready. He would never know. But the look in her eyes as Byakuran spoke was one of peace. She had already forgiven him for what he'd done. It pained Mukuro to see it. He would never forgive himself. It was just another reminder of how different they were. _

_ "Good. I see that you do understand. Very well then. I'm done here."_

_ He pulled the trigger without a second thought, and still Mukuro stared. When some of Byakuran's thugs carried his sister's limp body away, all he could do was stare. Byakuran put his gun away and strode over to him, not a care in the world to be had. He stopped just beside Mukuro, muttering under his breath._

_ "You belong to me now. Don't fail me again."_

… … …

"After that, nothing mattered. Byakuran climbed higher in his ladder of power, and I helped him do it. Now, he's out for the last move in his game. Fran's life is on the line, as is the entire company. And you. You're his new gamble. Now that Nagi is dead, he's using you to control me. With every threat against you, I scramble to be more and more submissive, more controlled, more useful. But every time, it isn't enough. I don't know how much longer I can do it before he snaps, and you get killed. So I called it quits on my own terms. I'm done. I refuse to make the same mistakes I did before. I don't want to lose you. If you hate me, I understand, but I want you safe. And I will do everything in my power to keep you that way."

After talking for so long, Mukuro's throat as dry and scratched. He coughed quietly, waiting for Tsuna's response. The brunette said nothing. He simply stared at his clenched fists, a blank look on his face. Mukuro was afraid to say anything, in case the brunette was about to speak. Sure enough, Tsuna spoke up a few seconds later.

"You knew this all along?"

Mukuo winced, but he nodded. "Yes. I knew. Ever since I met you."

Tsuna 'hmm'-ed and continued to stare at the ground. It was another few minutes before he spoke again.

"I am not upset with you. I'm upset with the fact you didn't tell me sooner, but I understand your reasons. You've told me now, so it doesn't matter. What's done is done. What I'm more worried about is how I am to keep my guests safe. If Fran is a target, that means that the whole Varia is in danger, as well as all the rest of my guests. I need to find a way to keep them safe."

Mukuro reached over and lifted his companions head to force him to make eye contact.

"What about you, Tsunayoshi? I am more concerned about your wellbeing."

Tsuna smiled softly. He leaned over and pecked Mukuro's lips with his own, startling the older man. Tsuna pulled back, smirking.

"Me? I have you to protect me. Why should I be worried about me? Byakuran won't get anywhere near me. I feel completely safe with you, Mukuro."

That was all he needed to hear. His heart pounded in his chest for the first time in years. Mukuro felt a single tear slide down his cheek before he pulled the man in front of him into a warm embrace.

Neither of them let go for hours afterward.

* * *

><p>"Alright you two, look this way, please! That's it. Mammon, stop scowling, it makes you look like a wrestler. Fran, turn your face a bit…perfect. Hold."<p>

They had been going at it for hours now. The blonde photographer was very technical. Every shot had to be perfect before he snapped the shutters. While it was an interesting prospect to both models, it made for a very long, very tiring shoot. Both models were ready to fall over, but the blonde wouldn't have it. He seemed just as cool and composed as he had been three hours ago, and just as energetic. Maybe it was all the lollipops he'd been eating. Fran hadn't seen him without one since the shoot started.

"Okay, now, switch positions again. Fran, you face that door over there. Mammon, stand with your back to him. Mammon, look up, Fran look down. Knees bent, guys. Put the toe of your left boot on the ground. There you go. Now, clasp each other's hands behind your backs. Perfect. Now hold…wait, wait, wait, be careful!"

The two, having lost their balance, fell to the ground in a heap of limbs and fancy clothes. The scrambled for a moment, trying to regain equilibrium. Mammon was the first to jump up.

"Okay. That's it. Spanner, get your ass up here and put the fucking camera down. Fran and I need a drink and something to eat. We've been up here for hours. We need a break."

The blonde blinked and shrugged, setting his expensive looking device on a table and calling for food and drink. Mammon nodded happily and bent to help Fran to his feet. The teen was still sprawled and the ground, his clothes disheveled and his hair a mess.

"Here. Let me help."

Fran nodded his thanks and hoisted himself to his feet, with Mammon's assistance. He tried to rearrange his clothes so that they would fall right, but Mammon's sigh told him he was doing it completely wrong. A second later, he was being pulled by the arm to their table, where Mammon made him stand still while he fixed his clothes. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, Fran reached toward the table and plucked his hat from where it was sitting on the wood. He placed it on his head without a word and waited for Mammon to be done. When he looked up at the green haired teen and saw the hat, he frowned.

"Why are you so obsessed with that thing?"

Fran touched the brim of the hat, a little embarrassed. "What? Do you have a problem with it?"

Mammon scoffed and rolled his eyes. "It's ugly as fuck. You should stop wearing it. Why do you wear it, anyway?"

Fran was about to answer, but for some reason he couldn't remember. He had no idea why this hat was so important to him. He just knew it was.

So instead, he shrugged. "I dunno. It's important to me. I think our snacks are here."

Mammon abandoned his interrogation in favor of stuffing his face with food. Fran couldn't blame him. The food was quite delicious. Plus, watching his friend devour practically everything in front of him was a source of extreme amusement. He had no idea how Mammon stayed so skinny.

"Careful, Mammon. You'll get crumbs all over your pretty face. Wouldn't want that, now would we? Shi shi shi…"

A new voice was added to Fran's hearing. It took him a solid minute to figure out who's it was, but when he did, he all but jumped out of his skin. It was him. Belphegor. What was he doing here? Why now?

Fran did his best to ignore him, but Mammon had no such qualms.

"Fuck off, Bel. I'm working. No one invited you. Why the fuck are you here, anyway?"

The blonde looked confused. "I was looking for my Froggy, and when I heard he was with you, I figured something was wrong. So I came here to get him." Fran felt his brow furrow in confusion.

_Why would he do that?_

_Wait._

_ "His Froggy"?_

He felt a hand on his arm, and the sensation of someone pulling him away. Mammon did nothing to stop him. Fran felt a stab of betrayal. Mammon had been the one to tell him to keep away from Belphegor. Why wasn't he doing anything?

Fran didn't struggle. He just went along with the blonde until they stopped moving. He felt the grip on his arm release, and the he was looking into Bel's bangs. There was a small frown on his face.

"What's up with you, Froggy? You seem like you don't even recognize me…"

Fran was confused. He was disoriented. The mist was coming back full force, and nothing made sense. His lips were moving of their own accord.

"You tried to kill me. What makes you so sure you won't do it again? All you've ever done to me if hurt me, or force me into things I don't want. You're disgusting."

Bel took a step back, hurt flashing across his face.

"So…yesterday…at the mall? You didn't want that, either? I forced you into it?"

Fran had no idea what he was talking about. There was something nagging at the back of his mind, but the mist covered it up. Fran shrugged.

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

Now Bel was cold. He had no expression, no feeling, and no emotion on his face. Fran was suddenly scared for his life. His face morphed into an expression of fear as he backed away slowly. "Don't…don't come near me. Don't you dare touch me." His voice shook when he spoke.

Bel blinked slowly, confused. The rejection hurt, but something was wrong with Fran. He never showed emotion that strong, even when he was in a private room with the blonde. Yet here he was, showing his fear in public, his emotionless mask completely shattered. What was going on?

"Shi shi…Fran…what's wrong with you?"

Fran froze. Something about his name coming from those lips was special. It wasn't something that happened often. For some reason, it made his heart swell, and beat irregularly. It made him happy. He felt the emotion flash across his face, and he thought he saw Bel's eyes widen in surprise. And then it was gone, the mist took over again, causing him to speak without control.

"Nothing's wrong. Stay away from me. I don't want anything to do with you. Stay away. Just stay away from me."

He turned and ran away without another word.

* * *

><p>The mansion was quiet. Everyone was out working, shopping, or eating, depending on their schedule. Lal felt extremely out of place in the empty mansion, and amused herself by exploring the many rooms. Tsuna was somewhere in the building, she knew, but he was in his office doing paperwork. Finding that extremely boring, she asked him if it would be alright for her to explore. He said yes, of course, especially since Mukuro was there with him. It wasn't like he was unprotected. Her other charge, Fran, was out on a photo shoot, and Lal figured it would be very suspicious if she tagged along for that. She figured that the next best thing would be to tell Bel where he was. The blonde prince had scurried away immediately after she told him about Fran's whereabouts, muttering out a quick 'thank you' on his way out.<p>

Lal shook her head and laughed softly to herself. Bel was infatuated. That much was clear. She wondered if Fran felt the same way. It was hard to tell with his mask what the boy was really feeling, but Lal figured that the feelings were mutual.

_Look at me. I sound like a school girl. Obsessed with love. Bah._

She started to climb up the huge marble staircase – one of them, anyway – laughing to herself and her juvenile thoughts. She paused at the top of the stair and turned, looking out over the enormous room below her. The steps were steep, and there were many of them, so she was very high up. The room itself was probably a ball room, and had beautiful coloring and accents. Before she could be too preoccupied by the décor, her world shifted. She couldn't figure out what was happening, but all too soon she was falling, twisting and banging her way down the steps, her voice caught in her throat, unable to scream. She felt something in her body break, and a shooting pain lanced through her. She reached the bottom of the stairwell, gazing up at the ceiling in shock. She was going to pass out, and no one was here to help her. How? How had she fallen?

She caught a glimpse of a body moving at the top of the stairs. Lal felt her blood run cold.

Someone had pushed her.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/n: And she finally updates! I had the whole summer to work on this thing, and it took me…all summer. Wow. I really suck at this.**

**For those of you still reading: thank you so much! I don't deserve patient people such as yourselves…truly, thank you. **

**All of your reviews…wow! They really kept me going. Thank you to everyone who spared a second to tell me what they thought! I really look forward to reading what you lovelies have to say ;)**

**IMPORTANT NOTICE: This is the next to last chapter. Meaning that yes, the next chapter will be the end. I'm sorry it's such short notice, but that's the way the story is turning out. Don't worry, a lot will happen in the next chapter, but it'll all come together. I had a lot of fun writing this story, and it ain't over yet! Just letting y'all know. **

**TWO disclaimers: One, as always, I do not own KHR. That's the lovely Akira Amano. My name is neither Akira nor Amano, therefore this franchise does not belong to me. The plotline, however, is mine.**

**Two, I apologize for the cliffhanger in the chapter. It was necessary. I swear.**

**I think that's everything. Thanks, all! See you next chapter!**

"Oi, Fran, you need some help there?"

Mammon was standing behind him in the bathroom, hands on his hips and a smirk on his lips. Fran rolled his eyes, twirling the liquid eyeliner in his fingers before uncapping the bottle.

"Like hell, asshole. Just getting rid of my common sense…"

Mammon scoffed. "C'mon, it'll look great. We'll look like twins! Now put it on, before I do it for you."

Fran sighed and shook his head, a small smile on his lips. The purple eyeliner in his hands was supposed to be applied to his eyelids (go figure), but Mammon used it on his cheeks to give him his tell-tale purple triangles. He had spent the entire afternoon convincing Fran that he should give himself a pair, and after his scary encounter with Belphegor, the green haired teen was willing for any kind of distraction.

He lifted the brush to his face, sliding the cool liquid down his cheek on a slight diagonal He didn't want to look _exactly_ like Mammon. He painted one, then the other triangle, and recapped the bottle. He kinda liked how they looked. They brought out his cheek bones, and he was sure that the purple color would draw people's attention to his face. He silently praised his friend for his fashion sense. Mammon knew how to get people's attention.

"Well, well. You actually look decent. Here I thought they would make you look like a fool. You should wear it all the time. Keep the makeup, I have tons more." He saw Fran starting to protest, and shook his head, waving his hands dismissively. "Take it. I won't take no for an answer. If you're going to be modeling more with me from now on, you need to look good."

Fran rolled his eyes, but pocketed the makeup in silent glee. He really liked the look.

"So what's next on the agenda?"

Mammon pursed his lips, tapping his forehead in mock thought.

"Well…dinner is always good. I haven't eaten anything but those snacks Spanner got us. What about you?"

Fran nodded in agreement, both at the question and the food idea. The pair exited Mammon's room with a laugh and a smile, seemingly perfectly at ease with each other. The white shadow watching them smirked to himself, backing away into darkness and sneaking down the halls.

_Perfect._

(line)

Fran wasn't expecting to see the Varia so soon, but with so many people in one house, it was hard _not_ to run into them. Belphegor had apparently told them about his weird behavior, for they all shot him mildly shocked looks from across the large dining area. Bel was among them, but he was the only one who didn't shoot him a glance. Fran felt an odd stabbing sensation in his heart, one that he couldn't put a name to or comprehend. He shook his head suddenly, trying to get rid of the sensation in any way he could. The green haired teen took his plate of food over to where Mammon was sitting, sliding into the seat beside him without a word. The purple haired model tossed him a loaded glance, and Fran just shrugged, indicating that he wasn't bothered by the stares. Mammon seemed pleased, and returned to his own meal.

Dinner in the mansion, or any meal for that matter, was a very informal event. With so many people in the mansion at once, it would be very hard to sit everyone down at the same time to eat a meal together, three times a day, especially considering the different eating habits of the various models. Some ate once a day, some twice, and some at the very extremes of the day, early in the morning and late at night. Fran tended to eat when he was hungry, and the kitchen had a constant flow of food coming at all hours of the day. It was an impressive feat, to say the least, and the food was always delicious.

Fran started in on his salad, which was really all he was in the mood to eat at the moment. Once he had seen the Varia, his appetite had diminished considerably, and all he wanted to do now was finish his food and get out of there, preferably to the silence of his own room. No matter what brave face he gave to Mammon, the stares and whispers he was getting from the group was upsetting him. Throughout the dinner, the only one who didn't say anything was Bel, and for some reason that fact disturbed Fran more than all the whispers and stares combined.

Chewing on the final mouthful of salad, he clattered all of his silverware together and got up to leave, murmuring his reasons to Mammon and taking his dishes quickly to the counter that was set up for such things. He had just set down his tableware when a low chuckle from behind him alerted him to another's presence.

"Ah, Fran-kun. Fancy I should see you here. How have you been, hm~?"

The voice struck a strange chord in him, but when Fran turned to face those pale lavender eyes, the unease flitted just out of his reach. The mist was back, surprisingly strong, and it clouded his mind pleasantly, allowing him to smile freely at the man who was his soon-to-be employer.

"Byakuran-sama! I've been well, thank you for asking. You don't usually eat at this time, is something wrong?" Fran's walls were completely down, and his concern shone brightly on his face. He ignored the strange ache in his face muscles, which were sore from the sudden reuse. Byakuran smiled, noting the younger model's expression with a sort of smugness that the teen couldn't understand.

"No, Fran-kun, nothing is wrong. I was just concerned about you. I heard that Belphegor-kun tried to assault you today, and I wanted to make sure my model was alright." His lavender eye dipped into a wink, and Fran couldn't stop the blush flooding into his cheeks. Still, something about what the man had said hit him in the wrong way. He couldn't put a finger on it, but the mist soon stopped him from worrying about it. He shrugged his shoulders, pretending not to be bothered by Bel's actions.

"It wasn't anything serious. I'm alright."

Byakuran nodded, a small smirk on his lips. The smug expression soon melted into one of concern, however, when he noticed Fran's grimace of discomfort. Putting on the caring look, Byakuran voiced his well-played 'concern'.

"Are you feeling well, Fran? You look a little…out of it."

The teen blinked, shaking his head quickly, both to try and clear it and to deny the man's concern. "No, no I'm alright. I just have a strange headache. I think I need to go lie down, is all. Thank you for your concern, though, Byakuran-sama." The white haired man laughed musically, ruffling the teen's hair genially.

"Just Byakuran is fine, Fran. I'll see you around, hm? And make sure you get that rest. Word on the street is there's going to be another competition tomorrow. I'd be ready if I were you." He smirked and said nothing more, walking away with a friendly wave. Fran smiled and waved back at the receding figure, trying to blink away his dazedness as the mist slowly pulled away from his thoughts. He could think for himself again, but he didn't notice that anything had been amiss. It was as if the mist had never existed.

Just as he was about to walk out of the room, a strong grasp tugged him off balance, and practically dragged him back into the center of the room. Fran yet out a surprised yell, flailing his arms and legs in the futile attempt to break free. By the time he realized that it wasn't working, his captor had already released him. Instead of dropping him to the ground, as Fran was expecting, his mystery attacker made sure that the teen had fully regained his balance and was standing on two feet before letting him go completely. It made no sense to him.

"Vrait, Bel, are all the doors closed?"

Fran's blood froze when he heard those words, locking his muscles in place. He cast his eyes frantically around the room, searching for something, anything to get him out of here. His gaze landed briefly on Lussuria, but quickly left again in favor of his frantic search. He didn't see the flamboyant man frown, a puzzled expression on his face, nor did he see the sharp flash of concern. He did, however, hear the words he spoke.

"Hey guys, there's something seriously wrong with him. He's not acting like himself at all…"

It seemed that in the next second, everyone was in front of him, staring at him intently. Fran took a few slow steps back, his hands shaking in fists at his side. His eyes still darted nervously all over the room, and his muscles were all clenched in anticipation of danger. Still, despite his heightened senses, he didn't notice everyone's worried expressions. In his mind, they were all out to get him. The voice had told him so.

_Wait…what?_

A look of confusion passed over his features. His face was really beginning to hurt; it was like he wasn't used to so much emotion on his face. He winced as a sharp pain shot through his temples, spiking toward the back of his skull in electric spears. He lifted a shaking hand to his aching head, trying to quell the pain.

"Froggy?"

His voice. Something about his voice made the teen's heart ache strangely. What was it? What was it? What…why…

Fran could feel the mist curling at the back of his mind, ready to spread at the slightest sign of…of what? What activated it? But as soon as he thought it, it was too late. The mist was spreading rapidly, covering his thoughts, masking his worry. He was back to normal now. Nothing was wrong. And he had to get out of here. He was in danger, he was in trouble!

_Wait…but I thought nothing was wrong?_

Nothing was making sense. Fran shook his head, trying to knock reason back into place, but all he managed to do was make himself dizzy. With one hand on his head, he shouldered his way past whoever was in his way, blindly groping for the door. When his free hand settled around the handle, he yanked it open with a sharp tug, and stumbled out of the room as fast as he could.

The group he had just left all cast uneasy glances at each other, not quite able to understand what had just happened. Each wore a varying expression of shock, but only Bel seemed otherwise normal. He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, a grin spreading across his face.

"Shi shi shi. Well, that didn't work. Oh well. Fuck him."

The rest of the modeling group turned their shocked looks on the blonde, confused by his reaction. The prince didn't even acknowledge them. He turned on his heel and strode out the door, in the complete opposite direction that Fran had gone. The room fell silent again as Bel slammed the door behind him, the harsh sound dwindling away into nothing.

Squalo broke the silence first, sighing quietly and running his good hand through his hair.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?"

The rest of the group continued to dumbly look at each other, unable to think of a reason for the teen model's actions. When he received no answer, Squalo growled, fisting his hand in his hair in frustration.

"There has to be something wrong! Fran has never acted like that, and he would never just switch personalities like that! And he was chatting it up with Byakuran as if nothing were wrong! And _Mammon? _Why Mammon, of all people? The kid hates him, and the feeling is mutual. Why would he do this?"

Again, no one answered. Squalo eyed each of them carefully, his pulse pounding in his temple.

"Vrait! Will _someone_ at least _agree_ with what I'm saying?"

Levi, surprisingly, was the one who spoke.

"You know, maybe he really did just up and leave. It's not like the kid ever really expressed gratitude, or happiness, or anything at all. He just took advantage of our kindness and then dumped us at the first opportunity."

The silent group didn't respond. Whether the reason was they agreed with Levi or they didn't, those who were previous mute remained so. Squalo was the only one who reacted. His expression darkened with anger, and he turned on Levi with the most terrifying expression. The man actually took a few steps back at the sight.

"Fran would _never_ do that."

His voice was low, even, but even the stupidest person could have found the anger in it. Levi did the smart thing for once in his life, and remained silent. Squalo turned back to the rest of the group, the anger still present in his features.

"Vrait! I'm going to try and find out what's wrong with the kid. Anyone care to join me?"

Nothing.

Squalo sneered, spitting acid with his words.

"When the kid gets better, I'll be sure to let him know how his _friends_ worked to save him. I'm sure he'll be heartened by the story. Screw you. All of you. You're sick."

His gaze lingered on Xanxus' form for a second longer than the others, and then he turned in disgust and stalked out of the room, opting to follow the teen model instead of Bel.

When the door slammed shut with a bang, the group scattered like mice. All but one lone figure, who watched the closed door with dull red eyes, as if it would suddenly open again to reveal the secrets of the world.

(line)

_"Aaaaaaaaaaaall right lovelies, it's the moment you've all been waiting for! The next competition is about to start!"_

Anyone who wasn't a part of the Varia would have thought that Lussuria was just as energetic as always. But Fran knew that something was different about the man's voice. More strained, somehow…upset.

It took him a minute to remember that he didn't care. Once the mist had disappeared, he turned to Mammon with a slight smirk, his eyes dancing with a mischievous light. It was their first competition together; the shorter model had somehow figured out what the theme was going to be, and had secured the two of them as a pair. Fran didn't know how it had happened, but he wasn't complaining. Mammon glanced back at him, a similar look in his eyes. They returned their attention to the loudspeakers after a split second.

_"This one's gonna be a little different from what you're used to. There are three segments to this competition. This is the first segment, tomorrow will be the second, and the day after that will be the last. This is the final event, everyone! So bring your best! For this event, each model has a buddy. The pairs have already been chosen, so no take backs! Now, do you all see the runway in the center there?"_

Of course everyone saw the runway. It was impossible to miss. The huge slab of black marble was sleek and shiny, and extended from the far end of the room all the way to the massive stage on the other end. Bright lights were set up along the sides, illuminating every inch of the walking space. Fran swallowed nervously before returning his attention to Lussuria.

_"Each individual model will walk down that runway, turn, and pose when they reach the stage. Then, once both models in the pair reach the stage, a series of five photographs will be taken by two photographers, one on each side. At the end of the competition, the pair with the best photographs, as deemed by our judges, wins!"_

If Fran was nervous before, it was nothing compared to now.

_Photographs? As in, live, off-the-fly photographs? And poses? I've never done this before…_

Lussuria wasn't done.

_"In addition! Scoring will be different this time as well!"_

A wave of muttering broke through the crowd, which Lussuria silenced with a few 'tsks'.

_"Enough! Listen up! This event is massive. Up until now, the best five models have all gotten ten points, and the others five. But this time, the point gains are huge. Each model in the winning pair is worth fifty points. That's fifty points added on to each team's score. In addition to that, the model that the judges deem to be the best individual model is worth another fifty points. This could boot up the scores, people. The current points are as follows."_

He cleared his throat for a second before continuing

_"Vongola are in the lead with sixty-five points, followed by Varia with sixty, and Arcobaleno and Millefiore tied with fifty-five. This is anyone's game!"_

Fran felt disappointed. Varia wasn't in the lead. He reassured himself with a mental shrug.

_Ah well, Bel-sempai and I will… _

Again, he froze, and his thoughts rearranged themselves. A few seconds later found Fran frustrated with no explanation why. His teeth were grinding and his fists were clenched, but he hadn't the faintest idea what he was upset about.

_I feel like I keep forgetting something important. Something I never should have forgotten._

Lussuria was finishing up his spiel, so Fran sighed softly and pushed his worries back.

_"Your partners are posted on the far wall. Be sure to find each other and head to the designated dressing room. Meet back here in an hour! Good luck to you all!"_

The microphone clicked off with a pop, causing everyone to wince and hold their ears. When the screeching sound was gone, the room full of models shuffled over to the wall to read their assignments. Mammon grabbed Fran by the hand and yanked him in the opposite direction, toward the dressing rooms.

"I already have our room number. Let's go!"

(line)

"Well, what a twist of fate."

The cool, airy voice from behind him made the blonde stiffen, his blood running ice cold. The mystery man chuckled at the reaction, reaching across the blonde's shoulder to point at his name on the list.

"We're a pair, Belphegor. Isn't that exciting? Let's make number one, hm?"

Bel turned around to come face to face with the coolest pair of lavender eyes he had ever seen. They were calm and quiet, but Bel could see the fire of amusement flickering behind them. The sight made his stomach lurch nervously.

_What does Byakuran want with the prince?_

Realizing that the man wanted a response, Bel gave him his signature grin, muttering his reply through gritted teeth.

"Yes, Byakuran. Let's. Shi shi shi!"

(line)

"Quick! Get this on!"

Fran fumbled with the silky material that was thrown at him, trying to figure out what exactly he was holding. Apparently it was some kind of shirt. Shrugging, he started to slip it over his head, but was interrupted by Mammon throwing something else at him.

"Fran! Hurry up! I still need to do our makeup and hair! You're wasting time!"

Fran pretended that Mammon's attitude wasn't annoying him. He shot the other model a sharp smile and scrambled into his shirt. It settled around his torso smoothly, the cool silk brushing against his skin. It was a black tank top with a heart outlined in white on the front. The design had several large drips of white leaking from the heart, which Fran figure was supposed to be 'bleeding'. It was a little too gothic for his tastes, but he had no choice.

The other thing that Mammon had tossed him was a pair of white cargo pants. This, at least, Fran agreed with. The clothing was simple, but the ensemble was rather striking with his pale skin. Once he had fastened the pants – no belt was needed, thankfully – he slipped on a pair of black Vans.

Turning with a flourish, Fran faced his companion, who was already dressed and messing around with various makeup applicators. Mammon was bedecked in a white t-shirt, with a black design on the front that looked kind of like a British flag. He was wearing black silk pants that flared out at his ankles and added a nice shape to his legs. On his feet he wore a pair of white Vans, the exact opposite of what Fran was wearing. Again with the reversible thing. They didn't look _that _much alike, did they?

Mammon looked up, his face illuminated by the bright lamps on his 'makeup table'. He made eye contact with Fran in the mirror, which was full size and mounted on top of the dresser, and wasn't bothering to hide his annoyance as he gestured with a free hand for the green haired teen to 'come here'. Fran bit back a sigh and shuffled silently over to where Mammon was now tapping his foot, a black eyeliner applicator in his hand and a scowl on his face.

"Hurry up, loser. We have places to be."

_Where was this coming from? I've never seen Mammon like this…_

His thoughts were interrupted when Mammon roughly grabbed him and practically flung him into the chair in front of the mirror. Fran let out a small grunt of discomfort, but Mammon either didn't notice or didn't give a damn. He was already attacking Fran's hair with a comb and hair spray, styling it with devilish speed.

"God, you can't do _anything_ with your hair, can you? It's poorly cut and just plain ugly…tch. It'll have to do. If we lose, it's because of you."

Fran could feel his annoyance building. But somehow, he kept it in check for the rest of the prep. He said nothing to his companion, and just let him rant and rampage his way through the motions. When Fran's makeup was done, Mammon threw him out of the room with an exasperated sigh and ordered him to wait there while he did his own hair and makeup. And still Fran said nothing. He simply stood outside the door, trying not to rub his eyeliner-ed eyes or scratch at the spots where Mammon had none-to-gently applied cat's eyes, plucked at his eyebrows, and penciled on a pair of purple triangles on his cheekbones. His whole face hurt. And the competition hadn't even started yet.

(line)

"Hey…I came to check up on you."

The woman opened her eyes at the sound of his voice, wincing in pain as she turned her head to face him. She had a pounding headache, and a dull pain in her hip and shoulder, which she was able to feel even through the pain medication. She just wanted to sleep.

"What do you want."

It came out harsher than she expected, and if she were in her right mind, she would have apologized. But she wasn't in her right mind, she was too distracted by the pain to even think straight, let alone judge her words and people's reactions. Surprisingly, her visitor didn't seem bothered by her outburst. He simply smiled softly, pulling a vase of lilies out from behind his back and walking over to her bedside.

"Hey, I just want you to get better. Do you want to talk?" Colonello set the flowers down on the small table next to the bed and pulled up a chair. Lal didn't say anything. Instead she blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to hold back the wave of emotion that took hold of her.

_"All contestants, please report to the competition room. All contestants to the competition room."_

Colonello didn't move. In fact, Lal realized that he wasn't even dressed up. He was wearing a pair of black sweat pants and a plain blue t-shirt. Even his ever present bandana was missing from his head. It was tied around the vase of flowers in a relatively neat bow.

"Aren't you…competing?"

Colonello shook his head, his blonde hair flying everywhere without the bandana to keep it back.

"No. I talked to Reborn. He agreed that I should do what I thought was right. Hey, you're more important than some stupid competition anyway."

_"Paging Colonello. Colonello, report to the competition room. Paging Colonello."_

Lal winced at the noise, but pressed on anyway.

"Who was your partner? Are they okay with this?"

Colonello laughed. "Hey, Tsuna was my partner. He also agreed that you were more important. Said that he needed a good night's rest anyway."

"_Disqualified: Colonello and Tsuna. Disqualified: Colonello and Tsuna. Vongola and Arcobaleno are each docked twenty points."_

The blonde laughed, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

"Whoops. Didn't know that part. Oh well. Hey, it's not like we were gonna win anyway."

Even Lal cracked a smile at that. Something about this kid made her feel perfectly at ease. She sighed, closing her eyes as a fresh wave of exhaustion washed over her. Almost instantly, Colonello was pulling the bedcovers up to her chin and tucking her in.

"Get some sleep, Lal. Hey, I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."

(line)

The silence was stifling. No one made a single sound as the models filed into the massive room, the runway staring at thing like some kind of crouched beast. At least, that was what Fran felt as he slinked nervously into the room. He was almost certain that he wasn't the only one. After Colonello and Tsuna had been disqualified almost immediately, the nervous tension in the air spiked drastically. The stakes were high, and now everyone knew it. One slip up could mean disqualification.

Mammon, at least, did not share Fran's nervousness. No, the petite model strode through the large doors with an air of cockiness, as if he were too good to be here, anyway. A small part of Fran envied him. The larger part, however, still remembered the spat in the dressing room, and cursed Mammon for his insolence.

_He seriously needs to be brought down a notch. Or two. Or ten…_

For a brief second, there was something. A flash of gold, a hint of a grin, one precious second where his memory was his own. It didn't last, and left the teen just as confusedly frustrated as ever.

_This is getting ridiculous._

He was out of time to think. Just as the lights dimmed out, he caught the smallest corner of golden bangs, no longer in his imagination. Bel was standing next to Byakuran, apparently not very happy with the situation, if the scowl on his face was any indication.

For some reason, Fran felt an immense amount of worry about that situation. Something wasn't right. And _someone_ in that pair was in danger…he just couldn't pinpoint which one.

The obvious guess was Byakuran, of course. But something told Fran that wasn't the answer. It didn't sit right with him at all.

But now the room was dark as well as silent. The models shifted from side to side, suddenly uneasy and wary. What was going to happen now?  
>There was a gentle click as one of the runway lights flickered on. Then another, and another, and another. One by one, the lights flared to life, all the way down the runway. Once to the stage, the overhead lamps all turned on at once, illuminating Lussuria standing alone in the middle, microphone in hand.<p>

Fran blinked in surprise.

Was Lussuria _modeling?_

It seemed to be the case. The man was bedecked in distinctively stylish clothing, not his usually black jacket and annoyingly orange boa. In fact, Lussuria actually looked _good_. He wore a rather tight black tank top, with what looked like black leather pants on his leg. He wore huge combat boots that laced and buckled up to his knees, and a long black trench coat, which he wore unfastened. His hair, which was usually just a messy excuse for a mohawk, was actually styled tonight. His multicolored mohawk was leaning entirely to one side, some of the longer hairs framing his scalp and brushing against his ears. He had brushed glitter into it as well, so every time he moved, his hair glinted.

Fran found it just a little creepy that he was suddenly staring openly at _Lussuria_, but everyone else was agape too, so he didn't feel quite as bad.

_"Hello everyone! Glad to see most of you could make it tonight!"_

The reminder that two of the contest's models had been disqualified sent everyone out of their state of shock and into another state of panic. For the first time, Fran saw Lussuria as something other than the weird, excitable person who took care of everything. The multicolored man was playing off of the emotions of every model in the room, trying to get them to break, crash, burn, and ultimately fail. Realizing this didn't help Fran in the least. In the end, he still thought he was far too inexperienced to be in this competition in the first place.

_I've been modeling what…a few months? All of these people have years under their belt._

"_Alright, alright, enough thinking, dears. It's time to start the competition…now! Okay, so you each have your pairs and are dressed to the nines. I'm going to recap the rules. Everybody listen up!"_

The room fell eerily silent. Lussuria could have filled the room with his voice even without the microphone. The device just made the sound of his voice achingly clear.

_"Each pair will start on the far end of the runway. One model will go before the other. Once your partner reaches the middle of the runway – that's the red light right there – then it's your turn to go. When you get to the stage, pose, and hold that pose for three seconds. Then meet your partner in the middle of the stage and strike five poses. A photographer will snap a picture of each pose. There will be two photographers at different angles, but the cameras will flash at the same time. You have five seconds in between pictures."_

Mumbling started up again. Fran furrowed his brow in confusion. Five seconds? He could barely think of a pose in the privacy of his own room in ten seconds, let alone in the public eye in five! Was Lussuria trying to kill him?

_Yeah Fran, Lussuria thought up this entire event just to get at you. Are you stupid?_

Scoffing mentally at his own idiocy, Fran almost missed the next part of the instructions.

_"Once you're done, just get off stage. The order of pairs will be determined at random. I will select two slips of paper from this bowl here." _He lifted up a glass bowl to show that it indeed had slips of paper in it. _"Each slip will have a team on it. The first one will go first. The second is on deck. At the end of each team's modeling, I will pick another slip. There will always be one team on stage, and another on deck. Understood?"_

It made sense. That didn't make it any less terrifying. Fran nodded dumbly with the rest of the models. Mammon snorted next to him in derision.

"This is the dumbest thing ever. Who came up with this shit?"

Final straw.

Fran rounded on him in pure, uncensored fury.

"Listen, _Mammon._ I don't know what your problem is, but just shut the fuck up. I'm sick of hearing you bitch and complain about every little thing, thinking that you can do better. Well you know what? I'd like to _see _you do better. Or maybe, just maybe, you could shut your mouth and participate like everyone else. No one is forcing you to be here. You came of your own free will. So either shut up or walk out."

A few models in their immediate vicinity turned to stare at them. Mammon seemed to be shocked speechless, which Fran was immensely grateful for. He didn't know if he could stand to hear Mammon's voice at the moment.

_"Up first is: Mukuro and Kikyo! Followed by…Mammon and Fran!"_

The nerves in his stomach did a funny backflip. Completely ignoring Mammon, Fran turned on his heel and weaved through the crowd, trying to get to the back of the room as quickly as possible.

Typical, that he would be one of the first ones to go. The fates must really hate him.

Mammon watched silently as the teen stalked out of sight. He immediately pulled out his cell phone, texting a brief, frantic message.

_We have a problem. _

Not ten seconds later, he received his reply.

_So fix it._

(line)

The minute he appeared, Mukuro knew. He stiffened, although he tried not to show it. This was the make or break moment of his game. If he could be convincing enough, the tables would turn in his favor.

"Mukuro-kun. I haven't heard from you in a while. How are things, hm?"

Instead of answering, Mukuro responded with a question of his own.

"You put Mammon on Fran's case? I thought that was my job."

Byakuran shrugged, the white scarf he was wearing shifting with the movement. His face betrayed nothing.

"He seemed more competent than you. He's already befriended Fran, and is well on his way to accelerating the plan. You? You took much too long, Mukuro."

This wasn't going the way he had planned. Mukuro had thought to gain the upper hand in this conversation, but he was quickly realizing that he was as incompetent as always. Before he could try to save his motives, Byakuran spoke again.

"Our deal is off, Mukuro. Mammon is far more competent than you could ever be. And since our bet is off, that means that _everything_ is off."

Byakuran smirked, already walking away. He left the shocked man with one more parting comment.

"I'll see you soon, Mukuro-kun. Give Tsunayoshi-kun my regards."

His phone buzzed annoyingly in his pocket. Pulling it out and glancing at the screen, he composed a quick reply.

_So fix it._

(line)

All too soon, it was their turn. Mukuro and Kikyo had already completed their run. Kikyo seemed to be completely at ease, but something about Mukuro was off today. He was vacant and unfocused, and almost fell walking down the runway. Fran felt a flash of pity for him. In all the time he'd known him, he'd never seen Mukuro that nervous.

By this time, he had resigned himself to the mist that came to wipe out his thoughts. But this time, nothing happened. Confused and more than a little curious, Fran called up a memory from his past about Mukuro. A scene in the rain flashed in front of his eyes, as clear and unmasked as the day it happened. No mist came to wash it away.

_Interesting…I wonder if Bel…_

As soon as he thought his name, the mist was back, twisting and obscuring everything so that thought was impossible. A buzzer sounded, indicating that it was their turn.

_"On deck: Byakuran and Belphegor!"_

Mammon was in front of him, of course. The petite model had waltzed on over after Fran had blown up at him and slid right in front of him as if nothing had happened. Neither one spoke to the other.

And then Mammon was walking. He strutted down the aisle as if he were born to be there. Fran was so preoccupied by his envy that he almost didn't notice when Mammon reached the middle. Forcing his feet into action, Fran started his impossibly long walk down the runway, forced to walk in Mammon's shadow every step of the way.

Unbeknownst to Fran, his walk was much more impressive than Mammon's. Spurred by anger, injustice, and inexperience, Fran was gliding down the aisle with an effortless air. His head was lifted proudly up in the air, his eyes were sparking with fire, and his face was stoic, with a hint of beautiful anger lining his expression. His hair, brushed out and silky, waved around his chin, giving his face just enough mystery to be captivating without really hiding anything. Even Lussuria was speechless.

Mammon had already struck his pose, some strange arm flail that seemed to be his signature, and was standing in the middle of the stage waiting for him. Fran slowed down his walk just enough to annoy his modeling companion. He wanted to irk Mammon in any way he could tonight.

When Fran reached the stage, he had the perfect pose in mind. He turned to face back the way he'd come, a small smirk on his face. He lifted his hands to his ears, covering them with his palms, and weaving his fingers into his hair. He crossed his elbows out in front of him, and planted his feet shoulder width apart. He cast his eyes to the side, smirking as if he had a secret to share. He tilted his head up a little, as if he were signaling everyone to look behind him.

And in a way he was. Everything about tonight was mocking Mammon. Sure, maybe the pose was awkward or stupid, but the audience got the joke. They were all just as sick of Mammon as he was. Many people giggled, and some full out laughed. A camera flashed, and Fran took it as his cue to break the pose. He turned on his heel and went to join Mammon in the center of the stage.

The petite model was furious. Fran could see it in his posture. He took no notice, though, and instead went about preparing for their first pose. He decided to take the lead; they hadn't discussed what their poses would be beforehand.

He started with something simple. He clasped the other model's hands and knocked their heads together. In any other situation it would have been a romantic pose. But with these two particular models, it was anything but. Each had a deep rage flickering in his eyes, and their hatred for each other showed in their postures. The cameras flashed, and Fran had to think of a new one.

To buy himself a few seconds, his next pose was simply taking a step back and adopting a speculative expression. He lifted a couple fingers to his cheek, and crossed his other arm across his stomach, as if he were appreciating a good piece of artwork. Mammon, for his part, bent his knees into a crouch and tilted his face up, his expression set in a deep scowl. The overall picture was Mammon trying to attack him, and Fran simply standing there, unaffected. The audience laughed again.

In the meantime, Fran's mind was working a mile a minute.

_What pisses Mammon off?_

The answer was immediate and obvious. His height. Mammon was short. Fran wasn't too tall either, but he did have a few inches on Mammon. Now, how could he implement that into modeling…?

The cameras flashed again, and Fran leapt into action. He reached over and placed his hand firmly on Mammon's head. Then he put all his weight on one leg, bending the other one to cross his ankles in the classic 'nonchalant' pose. Mammon tried to squirm out of it, but the camera flashed before he could.

Another flurry of motion found the two side by side, Mammon adopting a look of extreme importance while Fran stood next to him, smirking. The green haired teen had his hand on his hip, with his other hand extended over Mammon's head. Fran's hand was level with his head, illustrating the few inches height difference between them. So while Mammon was looking all important, Fran undermined him by mocking his height. The cameras flashed, and the audience hung on the edges of their seats to witness the last pose. This pair was the best twenty seconds of their lives.

For the last one, Fran sat down. He crossed his legs Buddha style and mentally urged Mammon to do the same. He did, thankfully, sitting with his back to his companion. Fran grinned, leaning his head back until it was nestled comfortably on top of Mammon's head. Fran gazed up at the ceiling with a look of contentment on his face, reaching his arms up to nestle behind his head, while Mammon was forced to look to his lap, an annoyed and immensely angry expression on his face.

The cameras flashed for the last time. The pair stood up, gave a little bow, and walked off stage, each in a different direction.

_"On deck: Shoichi and Yamamoto!" _

(line)

The rest of the event went without a hitch. The judges gave their verdicts. They named Mammon and Fran the best modeling pair, giving them each fifty points. Byakuran and Bel were second, each getting twenty points. Gokudera and Zakuro came in third, each winning ten points. No one else won any points, as per the rules of this event.

Much to Fran's surprise, the judges announced him as the best individual model, earning him another fifty points. The teen was floored. He hadn't thought he would ever be able to model on par with these people, let alone come out on top!

Thanks to his and Bel's awards, the Varia were winning with one hundred and eighty points. The closest team was the Arcobaleno with one hundred and five points. The entire group was ecstatic. Fran could hear them celebrating on the first floor all the way from his bedroom on the second floor.

He didn't join them. He didn't think he would be welcome, what with his outburst earlier that morning and his imminent betrayal. He was leaving them. He was finishing this competition and going home with Byakuran and his group. He wanted to be on top. He wanted to be the best. And the Millefiore could offer him that. The Varia couldn't.

Even though the thoughts were his own, they didn't feel right. Again Fran was overcome by the feeling that none of this was right. None of it made sense. This wasn't the kind of person he was.

But of course, the mist came and went, erasing any trepidation he'd had. The teen slipped into a deep sleep almost instantly, and fell into a tumultuous dream world that made even less sense than his reality.

(line)

"Where's Fran? He should be here!"

The Varia and the Vongola were celebrating on the ground floor. While the Vongola was miles away from beating the Varia, they were still happy for their companion's victories. Bel and Gokudera were showered with food and drink, and both were more than a little tipsy. Yamamoto had been the one to speak up, and his loud voice carried across the entire group.

The members of the Varia all fell silent at once, and an awkward air settled over the 'party'. Yamamoto looked around, confused as to why no one had answered his question. Gokudera shut him up with a sloppy kiss on the lips. The two of them were preoccupied for the rest of the night.

Mukuro looked up from where he was deep in conversation with Tsuna, a worried crease between his eyebrows. Nothing about this felt right.

"Oya oya…what's wrong with the Little One? He hasn't ben himself lately, and I haven't seen him around any of you for a few days…"

Lussuria sighed, Squalo cursed, and Bel set his nearly-full drink back down on the table, suddenly disinterested. None of them wanted to answer the question, but each felt obligated to.

"Vrait…we don't really know, Mukuro. We've noticed, but we don't know why he's acting so strange. He's had a complete change of character."

Mukuro and Tsuna sent each other a worried glance before Mukuro spoke up again.

"Character change? How do you mean?"

Now it was Lussuria's turn.

"He's been completely open with his emotions. And I mean _completely_ open. He went from showing no emotion at all to suddenly being the most expressive person I know in under twenty-four hours. In addition to that, he's been hanging around Mammon and Byarkuan a little too much for any of us to be comfortable. Byakuran is bad news, and Fran hates Mammon. I think the two of them are up to something. It's just a little difficult to figure out what."

Bel interjected before Mukuro could react.

"Shi shi…you forgot the part where he acted like he didn't know any of us. As if we were out to hurt him. As if he was scared of us, all of us. Me in particular. It's like he's had a complete…memory wipe or something. Shi shi…the prince doesn't like it."

The silence that fell over the group this time was one of heavy misery. Mukuro sighed quietly, his own worries now compounded with worry for his previous pupil. Byakuran was behind it all, of that he was sure. But how could Fran's character change be linked to anything Byakuran is doing?

Tsuna nudged him in the side.

Ah, right. The reason Tsuna called this 'party'.

The petite brunet stood up suddenly, clearing his throat with enough conviction to catch the attention of everyone in the room

"Everyone, the reason I called this meeting, while our individual's accomplishments are indeed worthy of praise, was not to celebrate. Mukuro has disclosed information to me that can help this mystery. Before he reveals it to all of you, however, I am announcing that Mukuro has my full trust. Nothing he has said to me makes me feel like he is untrustworthy. Allow me to make that clear before he continues. Is that understood?"

Something in Tsuna's tone made everyone take him completely seriously. The fact that he even had to say that, however, alerted them to the fact that what Mukuro was about to say was probably worthy of mistrust. Nonetheless, each resident of the room nodded his head in agreement to Tsuna's demands.

Tsuna smiled briefly before nodding to Mukuro and taking a seat. Suddenly the center of much-unwanted attention, Mukuro forced himself slowly to his feet and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Oya…I know I'm not a favorite of any of you in particular. In fact, most of hate me." Gokudera had just enough cognition available to flip Mukuro the bird, before becoming completely occupied with Yamamoto. Mukuro raised a brow.

"My point exactly. In any case, this news won't surprise most of you. But it needs to be said, because things are getting…out of control."

He had everyone's interest now for sure. Mukuro sighed inwardly and steeled himself for what came next.

"Years ago, I got involved with Byakuran and his gang in the wrong way. I paid for it with guilt, and my sister paid for it with her life." Lussuria let out a soft gasp, and even Squalo breathed out a small 'vrait'. Mukuro ignored them and pushed through. "Ever since then, Byakuran has had complete control over me. I'm not proud of it, and I despise myself for it, but the fact remains that I was under his thumb until very recently. As you all know, he was fired from CEDEF, but a less known fact is that he was the one who murdered Sachi and his wife. He was sent to prison, but escaped fairly quickly. That was when I got involved with him. I thought I could get the best of him. I was wrong."

Mukuro paused, taking a breath and collecting his thoughts. He was vaguely aware that he was rambling, and tried to get himself back on track.

"Most recently, Byakuran had been using me to climb his way back to the top. This competition is where he wants to stage his final blow. He…blackmailed me again, as he did all those years ago with my sister. This time, though, he's been using Tsuna."

"The deal was relatively simple. All I had to do was convince Fran to quit the Varia and join his modeling agency. It should have been simple enough, since he was a former pupil of mine. But the Little One stood firm, and he stayed with his own modeling group. He said he felt at home with them." He shot the Varia a small, weak smile before continuing.

"I was secretly proud of him. After all he'd been through, I was glad he had finally found happiness. But Byakuran was not pleased. He reminded me of the stakes at hand; if I failed, Tsuna would meet the same fate as my sister. I had already witnessed the death of one person close to me. I didn't want to do it again. So when he told me to 'get Fran for him' by whatever means necessary, I felt like I had to do it."

This was where the story got thorny. He tried to get through it as quickly as possible, vainly trying to diminish his wrongdoing by speeding through it.

"The night of the second competition, I cornered him and led him to where Byakuran was waiting. I had to watch as the devil questioned him…Fran stayed remarkably cool. Even I believed him. It was obvious that he considered Byakuran an enemy, though, which meant that he knew he was in danger. After that, Fran refused to come near me, and rightfully so."

"In the meantime, something happened to him. I don't know what, but after we all returned from our shopping excursion, Fran was different. All of a sudden, Mammon was his best friend. Byakuran was a mentor, and someone to depend on. And this evening, Byakuran approached me and told me that all bets were off. He said that Mammon was much better at winning Fran over than I was. Which means that Tsuna is likely to be in danger as well. Lal Milch is in the hospital with a broken leg and arm, so Tsuna's official protection is gone. I feel like Byakuran is lining his pieces up one by one, and he's almost ready to strike."

He sat down immediately as an awkward silence filled the room. Mukuro tried to ignore the judgment seeping from all throughout the room, but it was hard to ignore. He had kept all this information from them all this time, and he wasn't trusted to begin with. Now, he was practically a demon.

Surprisingly, Bel was the first one to react. He shrugged, leaned forward to grab his drink once more, and chugged the whole thing back in one go.

"Shi shi shi. Whatever. You all should stop being judgy. The prince wants his froggy back. Mukuro wants the prince's froggy back. You all want the prince's froggy back. I think we have an overlapping interest here. So let's get the prince's goddamn froggy back, kay?" He tipped his glass back again, a disgusted look slipping across his face when he realized it was empty. He set it back down on the table with an unsatisfied grunt. The glass tipped and fell over. He didn't notice.

Everyone else eyed Bel with a wary interest, all a little shocked at his outburst. Bel wasn't exactly known for his caring personality, so the fact that he was fighting so hard for the green haired teen was like a flashing neon sign that something was up. For the Varia, it confirmed their suspicions. For everyone else, it was just really strange. But then again, Bel was always really strange…

One by one, the rest of the room's inhabitants nodded their heads, showing their support and agreement of both Mukuro and Bel. Something was definitely wrong, and needed to be fixed before more people got hurt. And with Byakuran involved, they had to move fast. He was lining up to hurt more people as they spoke.

Tsuna stood, the gratitude on his face slipping into a more serious expression as he addressed the group.

"What should we do?"

Now, being models, everyone in the room was used to dramatics. It was their everyday life. But even they were surprised by the drama of it all when a newcomer practically ran into the room, a nervous expression on his face and a scared look in his eye. Everyone stared at him for a good ten seconds, an awkward silence settling over the room once more.

Tsuna blinked. He knew this person.

Sloppy, messy read hair, in dire need of a trim. Large, oversized, awkward glasses that continuously slipped down his nose. A face that was more freckles than face. Large grey-green eyes that were intensified and mad even larger by the heavy prescription on his glasses. And apparently, he was inherently clumsy. As he tried to slow himself down, the kid tripped over his own foot, let out a surprised yelp, and crashed to the floor in a jumbled heap.

If the atmosphere hadn't been so heavy, everyone would have laughed.

"Oya oya, look what the cat dragged in. Eavesdropping, were you Shoichi?"

Tsuna snapped is fingers in recognition, having a personal little 'ah-ha!' moment.

_Shoichi Irie. He's part of Millefiore, and always hanging around Byakuran. This is bad news…_

Shoichi sputtered embarrassedly, trying to form coherent words as his face flushed a violent red. He flipped himself into a sitting position, his legs crossed in front of his and his hands flat on the ground. He turned his face away while he tried to pull himself together.

"Look, I wasn't eavesdropping! I just thought you'd want my help. Sorry for intruding."

He scrambled awkwardly to his feet and started to stomp out of the room in an embarrassed huff. Tsuna sprinted toward him, snagging him by the arm and stopping him in his tracks. The red head turned back with a look of surprise in his eyes, and Tsuna gave him a small smile.

"What help do you have to offer us, Shoichi? Anything would be very helpful. Why don't you come sit down?"

Tsuna's sentiments were not shared by the rest of the group. The room was mumbling to itself, not ready to trust another one of Byakuran's spies – Mukuro was quite enough, thank you. But when Tsuna shot them a scathing glare, the rims of his eyes flashing a bright orange, the group fell immediately silent.

Shoichi shook his head to Tsuna's request, choosing instead to stand where he was and deliver his news.

"I know that I'm not your friend. I also know that Byakuran isn't your friend. He is my friend, though, so this is a little hard for me to do." Shoichi turned his head to stare off to the distance for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing.

"What Byakuran is doing to Fran is worse than torture, worse than murder. And I can't stand for it anymore. I overheard Kikyo and the others talking last night, just to confirm. Well…" he blushed violently again "I actually got Kikyo drunk so he would talk. But it doesn't matter, he just confirmed what I already knew." Shoichi held up an empty glass vial, about as big as his pinky finger, and showed it to the group.

"Kikyo was sent by Byakuran to pick this up from one of his underground suppliers. The drug has multiple effects, like fatigue, delirium, and headaches, but the big kicker is what it's mainly used for. The drug completely cuts off the mind from its memory system just long enough for memories to be planted or rewritten. All it takes are a few whispered words, and the victim has a completely new set of memories. The victim will have no sense that anything is wrong; to them, they're completely normal, and nothing has changed."

The room held a chilly, steely air as Shoichi pocketed the vial and sighed.

"You're only ever supposed to use a few drops of this stuff on one person, but Byakuran doesn't play by the rules. He wanted to be sure that Fran wasn't going to 'wake up' from the lie at an inopportune time, so he used the whole vial. I tried to warn him that it would do more harm than good, but he wouldn't listen to me. He never does." The last bit was said with a bitterness that surprised everyone, but Shoichi didn't give them any time to react.

"When administered correctly, the drug's effect is irreversible. But since Byakuran gave him way more than he should have, Fran's mind noticed the intrusion. Not consciously, but his memory is fighting to regain control. Unfortunately there isn't a cure. Fran has to come back on his own. He needs to do it soon though, or it'll be too late."

After a few moments of silence, it was obvious that Shoichi wasn't going to say anything more without a prompt.

"Too late for what?" Tsuna asked quietly, his eyes still showing a hint of orange.

Shoichi sighed through is nose.

"Too late to save him. Byakuran means to kill Fran to get his company. There's another aspect to his plan, something I don't know. Byakuran isn't fully trusting of even me. With good reason, I suppose." A dark chuckle. Shoichi had transformed from a bumbling idiot to a dark savior in less than five minutes. He cast his grey-green eyes around the room, asserting his point with force.

"If you bring up that I was you informant, I will deny it. Outside of this meeting, I am still your enemy. This is my justification for my morals and ethics, nothing more. Find a way to help Fran, but as I said, he must ultimately do it himself. And watch each other's backs. Something else is about to happen that I can't tell you about, and with Byakuran involved, it isn't pleasant. Have a good evening."

He turned to walk out, pausing at the door to whisper a final message before disappearing.

"Good luck."

(line)

_"Hm~? Fancy seeing you here! You did a fantastic job at the competition tonight. I was very impressed…and so was my agency._

_ Fran blinked his eyes open, peeling his eyelids apart to stare at the white haired man in front of him. He was lying on one of the couches downstairs. He must have crashed here after the competition ended. Why hadn't he made it to his room? _

_ "Fran? Are you in there?"_

_ There was a light poke in the middle of his forehead. Fran scrunched his eyebrows together and mustered up enough consciousness to glare at the culprit. He was so tired. Why couldn't he move? He felt as if he were still dreaming._

_ Byakuran smiled secretively, as if he could hear every thought the teen was thinking._

_ "You're very sluggish, so I'll just talk. You did a fantastic job at the competition tonight. You even one upped Mammon! Very impressive. Very impressive indeed. How about I offer you a better position, hm?"_

_ Byakuran kept his secretive smile on his face, but there was something dangerous moving behind his eyes. Fran could see it, knew he should be wary of it, but felt no anxious response. He wasn't nervous, or upset, or frightened. He trusted this man. There was nothing to be afraid of. _

_ He managed to part his lips, forcing out a couple of words._

_ "What kind of offer?"_

_ Byakuran took a step back, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his white hoodie. The man seemed to be thinking over his response. Fran blinked in confusion_

… _He wasn't wearing that earlier…_

_Byakuran seemed to notice his distress and quickly started to speak again._

"_The kind of offer that will change your life. I can give you everything, Fran. You're talented enough to make it to the top. Staying with the Varia will only bring you down. I can make you famous."_

_Something in him didn't want that. Something in this felt wrong. But his lips moved into a smile, forming the words._

"_I would like that."_

_Byakuran grinned. His teeth glinted in the dim light. _

"_Fantastic. Now, before it's official, there is one more thing I want you to do…"_

_Fran stared evenly at the man, suddenly feeling very awake and alert._

"_What is it?"_

_The white haired man leaned in close, locking eyes with Fran and holding him with the intensity of his stare._

"_Listen very carefully."_

_(line)_

_ "Oi."_

_ Fran blinked, confused at the sudden shift. He was floating in space, with nothing to hold him in place, but he wasn't falling. He was surrounded by a milky white mist. He couldn't see anything. Where'd Byakuran go? Where was he?_

_ "Oi."_

_ That voice. It wasn't Byakuran's. It was different. Who was it?_

_ "Oi. Am I really this stupid? I'm over here, idiot."_

_ Fran turned his head from side to side, trying to locate the speaker. He heard an exasperated sigh, and when the voice spoke again, he was closer. _

_ "Oi. Oi! Behind you, dumbass…"_

_ Fran spun on his heel, whipping his head around to find the mystery speaker. He turned too fast, losing his balance and falling backwards, flailing his arms to no avail. The teen fell to the ground in a jumbled heap, not quite knowing which way was up. Fran groaned, half in pain, half in embarrassment._

_ A hand appeared in his line of vision, extended to help him to his feet. Fran took it without thinking, wanting nothing more than to be correctly oriented again, and get his bearings back. _

_ When he was balanced once more, the teen finally looked up to see his helper's face._

_ He blinked in confusion, scrunched his eyes closed for a few seconds, and then opened them again. He repeated the process again. And again. And once more._

_ Finally, his savior spoke up, his voice dripping in monotonous sarcasm._

_ "Wow, that stunned expression looks really awful with your bone structure. That's why I don't ever show emotion, you know. It's bad for my face. All those wrinkles…I could never handle it."_

_ Fran stopped blinking in confusion, opting instead to vocalize it._

_ "What the fuck is going on?"_

_ The other person raised his eyebrow, light green in color, and slipped his hands into his back jeans' pockets, casually shifting his weight to his back foot._

_ "It's confusing, I'll admit. Maybe an introduction is in order. Hello, I'm Fran. I already know your name. It's Fran. Because you and I are the same person."_

_ The confused teen went back to blinking confusedly._

_ "So wait…is this a dream?"_

_ Other-Fran rolled his eyes._

_ "No, this is reality. There was a huge worldwide natural disaster that filled the atmosphere with the strange, breathable, opaque mist. We're actually standing in the middle of the Vongola mansion right now. You've been asleep for ten years and are destined to save this world." Other-Fran waited for three whole beats. When he got no response, he rolled his eyes in the other direction._

_ "Yes, this is a dream, imbecile. Please tell me I'm not actually this stupid…"_

_ Fran shook his head, trying to wrap his muddled mind around what was going on._

_ Other-Fran didn't give him time to articulate a question._

_ "Look, I don't have much time. Do you remember what Byakuran told you to do?"_

_ Fran looked at Other-Fran warily, not quite sure if he liked where this conversation was going._

_ Other-Fran sighed._

_ "No, of course you don't. He rigged it so you would only remember when you woke up. Oi, listen to me." Suddenly, Other-Fran was much to close, only inches away from the other. Fran tried to take a step back, but Other-Fran grabbed his arm, clenching hard enough to bruise. _

_ "Listen. When you wake up, you're going to want to do something. I don't know what that something is, but you can't do it, no matter what happens. You have to fight the impulse with everything in you. I know that the mist is hard to evade, but you're going to have to try."_

_ As if it was reacting to his words, the mist around them started to swirl violently, like a nest of snakes that had just noticed an intruder. Other-Fran looked around cautiously, his face showing no true emotion._

_ "Look, I can't stay. He's beginning to sense my presence. Just listen. This isn't you. I'm you. I'm who you're supposed to be. He changed you. He changed you, and he's using you to achieve his goals. If you believe a word out of his mouth, you really are stupid."_

_ Fran was too engaged to react to the insult. The mist around them grew heavier, choking the air. _

_ "Deny the impulse. If you deny the impulse, then his hold will break. When his hold breaks, I'll be able to return to you, where I belong. I'm you. You're me. We're supposed to be one person, but he separated us. You need to deny the impulse. Something isn't right. I've been telling you that all along. Something isn't right. Don't do it. Don't do it. Don't –"_

_ The mist swallowed the both of them, tearing Fran from Other-Fran's grasp and sending him spiraling through the whiteness. He lost track of time. He lost track of space. All he had left was a repeated line of mantra that he felt in his mind, even after the physical connection had been severed._

_ Something isn't right. Don't do it. Something isn't right. Don't do it. Something isn't right. Don't do it. Something isn't…_

_(line)_

_He woke up in his bedroom. At least, he felt like he was awake. His mind was still cloudy, but everything felt and looked real. The drapes in his room were closed. He remembered doing that when he'd stumbled in the night before. His modeling clothes were strewn all over the floor, which he also remembered doing. Everything was right._

Something isn't right.

_ Fran frowned, shaking his head and sighing. He couldn't remember any of his dream. It was all a blur. He felt like he had to go do something, though. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, settling his feet on the floor._

Don't do it.

_He shuffled over to his closet, picking out a shirt and pants at random. He put them on robotically, not even thinking about it._

Something isn't right.

_ He lifted a hand to his head. His temples were throbbing. He should go get some medicine from the kitchen – he knew that was where Tsuna kept the Tylenol._

_ His mind flashed for a minute at the thought of Tsuna, and suddenly going to the kitchen was a very good idea. He shuffled over to his door, quietly opened it, and closed it behind him without a sound. _

Don't do it…

_ Odd. The words seemed to have a voice. Fran thought no more of it. He padded quietly down the huge staircase toward the kitchen. He'd only been there a few times before, but he felt confident he knew the way. It was almost surreal, how easily he navigated the mansion._

Something isn't right…

_ Fran reached the door to the kitchen, only to find it closed. When he tried to open it, the handle moved not at all. Locked._

_ No matter._

_ Slipping a hairpin out of his pocket, Fran had the lock pick in no time. _

_ When had he learned how to pick locks? And where'd that hairpin come from?_

Something isn't right!

_His head was really pounding. Better find that Tylenol soon…_

_ He entered the kitchen silently, closing the door behind him. Oddly enough, he could hear low voices coming from a few rooms over. He though he heard Bel's distinct laughter, as well as Tsuna's high and frantic tone. _

Something isn't right…!

_He crept over to the medicine cabinet. He didn't want anyone to know he was here. On the way to the cabinet, he passed the knife holder. For some reason, his feet stopped. He was observing the knives with interest, taking the biggest one by the handle and pulling it out of its place. _

_ Interesting. He like the way it felt._

Something isn't right! Don't do it!

_He started walking away from the cabinet, toward the door with the voices. His headache was forgotten. He still felt like there was something he had to do._

Don't do it! Don't do it!

_He opened to next door – it wasn't locked – and continued down the hall. The voices were getting louder. Tsuna was definitely in there. They were arguing about something. He didn't care what. He had something he had to do. _

Fran! Fran! Can you hear me?! Fran!

_Who was calling his name?_

_ He paused, halting his quiet step in confusion._

Don't do it! Do you hear me? This is what he wants. Don't do it! Something isn't right! Something isn't right!"

_"Something…isn't…right…"_

_ His head was wracked with pain. Why hadn't he grabbed the Tylenol when he'd had the chance?_

Yes. Go back and get the Tylenol. Go back, put the knife away, take some medicine and go back to bed. Something isn't right!

_"Something isn't right."_

_ He should go back. What was he doing here, anyway? How had he gotten here?_

_ It was a moment of clarity. It was gone in an instant. Byakuran's voice came filtering in through his senses._

_ "_I just have one small favor to ask you, Fran. You'll be able to do it, right?"

_ He started walking forward again, knife hidden behind his back. He was almost at the door._

Something. Isn't. Right! Pay attention!

_ Byakuran's voice spoke again, drowning out the other._

"Just a small favor. Nothing big. You can do it, right Fran?"

Something isn't…

_The other voice was fading, breaking up in strange places, giving him an entirely different message._

Something…right…do it…something…do it…

_He was at the door. The voices were right on the other side. They were definitely arguing about something. He placed his fingers around the doorknob and twisted. _

_ The door opened silently. No one noticed his entrance. They were all too busy yelling at each other. Tsuna had his back turned to him, and was the closest person to him. Fran felt himself smile._

"Just a favor. It'll be simple. Can you do it?"

Something…don't do it!...thing…do it!

_His arms raised above his head. His lips curled into a smile. No one was watching. Everything was perfect. He took the last few steps toward Tsuna, bringing him into range._

"Simple favor, Fran. You can do it."

Something isn't right! Something isn't right! Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it, something isn't right!

_"Something…isn't right."_

_ Someone heard him. Someone looked up, his blonde hair glinting softly in the dim light. Someone made eye contact with him, hidden eyes meeting vacant ones. Someone yelled. Someone ran at him. Fran swung his arm down, right at Tsuna's back. Someone screamed. Someone fell. Something wet splattered against his hand, warm and dripping. Someone was crying. _

Something isn't right…

_ Fran dropped the knife and fell to the ground, unconscious. _


	13. Chapter 13

**A/n: This is it, guys and gals. This is the end.**

**Thank you all for your support and kind words while I was writing this story. It's what kept me going all this time. **

**There's a strong possibility for a sequel, (you'll see when you reach the end) but not for a while. I think I've exhausted this fandom for myself. I'll have to think about it.**

**Please keep arms, hands, and legs inside the vehicle. It'll be a bumpy ride. **

**See you on the other side,**

**~Shadow**

"You idiot."

Fran opened his eyes, startled to wakefulness by the voice. Ah. It was Other-Fran again.

The teen tried to sit up, but his arms were too weak to hold his weight. He collapsed to the ground, which was surprisingly soft. Running his hands along the surface, Fran realized he was lying outside on the grass. The sky above was misty, cloudy, with little shards of blue peeking through the cover. There was no sun, just the promise of color behind the grey. There wasn't any wind either. Everything was beautiful – trees reaching toward the solid sky, butterflies fluttering by on paper-thin wings – but everything was silent. Dead silent.

"Well, I'm glad you like it here. Thanks to you, we can never leave."

The words took a while to seep into his brain. Fran was still in awe of his strange surroundings, and wasn't really paying attention. When the words did register, though, it hit him like a boulder. He whirled around, staring at his reflection-self in shock.

"What?"

Other-Fran didn't respond. He was sitting on a nearby tree trunk, legs crossed at the knee, hands at his sides. He stared off somewhere in the distant sky, not focusing on anything in particular. He was wearing a simple white shirt and black pants, which could have been taken from anywhere. His green hair hung softly around his face. His expression was nonexistent.

Real-Fran tried to get a rise out of him.

"Hey! Oi! What do you mean, we can never leave? What happened?"

No response.

"Tell me what's going on? What did you do to me?"

This got a reaction. Other-Fran turned his head sharply, and leveled Real-Fran with a cold, dead stare.

"I did nothing. This was all you, imbecile. Congratulations."

And then he didn't say anything more. Nothing Real-Fran said, yelled, screamed, or pleaded changed Other-Fran's expression. He was well and truly unreachable.

(line)

The only sound in the room was the even beeping of the machines keeping the inhabitants alive. There were two, both unmoving, both dead to the world, and both still barely alive. They look so peaceful, so calm, and even vaguely happy. A foreign expression for both invalids.

The door to the room opened with a quiet hiss. Lussuria walked in, his expression somber and his outfit significantly less outlandish than usual. He didn't try to talk to either patient – they were both completely unreachable. He just puttered around for a few minutes, replacing IV's here, changing bloody dressings there. He had to be careful – one of the patients was handcuffed to the bed. Thankfully, he wasn't the one who needed the bandages. _He_ was in a coma. The seriously injured one was simply knocked out.

In a few hours, he'll wake up, and the screaming will start again.

Lussuria finished his work and left the room. The door locked with a soft click, and the only sound was the faint beeping once again.

(line)

Real-Fran threw another pebble. It bounced right off of Other-Fran's shoulder and plunked to the grassy ground. He had been doing this for a good two hours, and it still hadn't spurred a reaction from his reflection-self.

This was getting very boring.

"Oi."

Nothing.

"Oiiiiii."

Other-Fran blinked, but that was it.

"Oiiiiiiiiiiiiii."

This was getting him nowhere, Fran decided.

Thinking back on the past two hours, Fran realized that the only time he had gotten a sentence out of Other-Fran was when he had blamed _him_ for being stuck here.

Might as well.

"I can't believe I'm stuck here. What did you do to get us landed in the place? I mean, it must have been pretty bad."

Other-Fran shot him a glance, but said nothing. Real-Fran let out a frustrated sigh.

"Look, is it too much to ask for a couple answers? I don't know why the hell I'm here, or how the hell I'm supposed to get out. So a couple sentences would be appreciated."

Other-Fran stared blankly at him for a solid two minutes. Real-Fran was beginning to get uncomfortable – the other's expressionless face was kind of creepy, and Real-Fran couldn't even pretend to guess what he was thinking.

Finally, he spoke.

"The fact that you don't remember how you got here is sickening."

And then he was silent once more, and Real-Fran was left with a sick feeling of uneasiness in his stomach.

(line)

A month passed.

The coma patient remained in his coma. The injured patient healed slowly, his wounds getting smaller and smaller, and his dirty dressings getting less and less bloody as time wore on. Finally, Lussuria was able to take the bandages off for good, and the patient could get up and walk around the room. It would take more months of physical therapy and daily check-ups before the man was back to normal. Even then, he may never walk the same again. The knife that injured him had stuck deep into his back, tearing a huge gash into the skin. The blade nicked his spinal cord on the way down, which caused partial paralysis in his left side. Hence the therapy. And even if he _could_ walk normally again, nothing could be said about his mental state. Betrayal cuts deep, sacrifice cuts even deeper, and loss cuts even deeper than that. This man had experienced it all, and had to cope with immeasurable emotions.

Some days he was angry. So, so angry. So angry that Lussuria had to call for Mukuro and Squalo to help restrain him. So angry that tears of frustration and hatred fell from his eyes, and curses and poison fell from his lips, and his muscles we locked and tense with rage. So angry that he eventually just passed out, tear stains still fresh on his cheeks.

Other days he was silent. On those days, he wouldn't eat, and he barely drank. On those days, he would stare at the blank white wall, and do nothing else. He wouldn't sleep until exhaustion forced him to. These days became more and more common as the anger faded away. Silence was now an emotion.

Sometimes he would cry. Usually during the silent days. All of a sudden, something he saw in the shadows on the wall would remind him of his predicament, and tears of pain and sorrow would leak from his clenched eyes, and he would silently sob.

His fellow patient never reacted to any of this. His coma continued on, as weeks turned into months, which turned into more months.

He didn't have to cope with all the pain he had caused.

How lucky he was.

(line)

"Damn you!"

Real-Fran was furious, his hands clenched into tight fists at his side. He was shaking. He'd had enough. It had been a full six hours, and he was sick of it. What was he doing here? Who was he? What did he do? How did he get here? What was here?

He had so many questions, and Other-Fran had all the answers.

But he wasn't fucking _talking_.

"Damn you! Tell me what you know!"

He threw a punch, which Other-Fran dodged easily. Too easily. It was as if Other-Fran knew exactly what he was going do before he did it. Very frustrating. Real-Fran was not amused.

"Tell me! I want to get out of here! I can't stay here any longer. Get. Me. Out!"

Other-Fran dodged another punch. He backtracked a couple of steps, putting a few yard's distance between them. He observed Real-Fran without expression, a pensive frown on his face. His hands were in his pockets. He seemed very calm.

"I can't get you out. You're stuck here. _We're_ stuck here. You had your chance to escape and you blew it. You didn't listen to me. I know you heard me. But you ignored me, and now we're both paying for it. Bastard."

Real-Fran tried to kick him this time, but ended up on his back, staring up at the solid grey sky. Other-Fran was leaning over him. He was so close that his hair was brushing up against Real-Fran's nose. Too close. Way, way too close.

"I don't even know who you are. Supposedly, you're a part of me. You're me, without…the things that make me _me_. It's sad. You're a shell. A very dangerous shell."

His eyes narrowed.

"I wish I could help you. But you mean nothing to me. You're not even _me_! I can't put us back together. I wish I could. But I can't. So we're stuck here. Just be thankful you don't remember what you've done. It's saving you from insanity."

And then he was gone. Real-Fran sat up quickly, searching around for his reflection-self. Gone.

_I'll return later. I need time alone. Go exploring or something. I refuse to babysit you for the rest of eternity._

His voice suddenly appeared in his head, and as soon as he registered it, it was gone.

Real-Fran was truly alone.

It felt awful.

(line)

The mansion was lifeless. The modeling competition had come to a screeching halt after the incident, and the remaining inhabitants were somber and listless. There was no more laughing or random singing coming from the main room down the hall. No one paraded around in anger, indignation, or glee – everyone just padded quietly from place to place, trying to make as little noise as possible. The only breaks in the silence were when one of the patients started screaming, and even that was slowly dwindling down to silence.

Sitting at the piano in the main room, Tsuna held back tears. It had been meant for him, he knew. The knife that had hurt the man lying silently awake in his hospital bed, the knife that had scarred him irreversibly and very nearly killed him, was meant for him. That man, the one who took the knife in the back, had saved his life. Of that there was no doubt. He had seen the attacker and pushed Tsuna out of the way, shielding him from the blade. Tsuna was completely unharmed. His savior was broken in more ways than one.

A small whisper of movement alerted him to another presence. He turned to look over his shoulder, smiling wanly when he saw Mukuro standing behind him. Even in all this, Mukuro had stayed by his side – a small consolation, but it was helping him through the insanity of the world.

Byakuran had tried to kill him. That much was certain. But Fran? Fran didn't have anything against Tsuna. At least, that was what he thought. But Fran was the one who had tried to kill him directly. And now, with the teen in a coma, no one could find out the reason why.

Shoichi had said that he was drugged, but to what extent does the drug work? Was Fran a complete robot, just following programming, or was he still in there when it happened? Did he actually try to kill Tsuna, or was it all Byakuran? Questions that needed to be answered, but due to Fran's current state, may never be resolved.

"Tsunayoshi…"

And then he was being held, covered by a warm embrace that didn't seem to end. Tsuna was unaware of the tears streaming down his face, and just closed his eyes and leaned into the comfort that Mukuro brought. It was a strange gesture for the taller man, so Tsuna reveled in it for however long he could.

Some things you just shouldn't question.

(line)

_A voice leaked through his consciousness, whispering poison._

"_When you awake, your mind will be mine. You will long to be next to me, and my words will bring you joy. You will strive to obey my every whim. You will do whatever I ask of you. Nothing will come between us. You will be mine to use, and you will not question it. You will kill Tsunayoshi Sawada when I tell you to, without hesitation. Everything you do, you do for me."_

_Inside his mind, Fran felt himself scream, but he could do nothing to stop it. He felt his mind slowly sink into a soupy mist, as the voice repeated the same message over and over again. He needed to wake up. If he woke up, he would be safe. But his eyes were too heavy, and the whispered words were too compelling. He screamed again, in vain. He slipped under and didn't come back up. _

_In his last coherent seconds as himself, he thought of Bel. _

Real-Fran opened his eyes with a yell, bolting into a sitting position. His heart was racing, and his face was frozen in an expression of pure terror. He had fallen asleep in the grass, slowly drifting off into what he thought would be a peaceful sleep. How wrong he had been.

"Looks like you're starting to remember things. Sucks, doesn't it?"

Other-Fran had returned, apparently while Real-Fran had been asleep. The reflection teen was sitting casually on a rock, staring off into the never-changing horizon. He didn't look at Real-Fran, but he had a strange air around him, as if he were beginning to hope for something impossible.

Real-Fran tried to steady himself, but his heart was still racing. What was that dream? He could still feel the mysterious voice in his head, feel the words slide around his mind like oily worms. He hated the feeling. It made him want to vomit.

"What…was that?"

Other-Fran still didn't look at him. He did shift his position however: he sighed and leaned back, settling on his elbow as he kicked his foot idly.

"That was a memory, my friend. Actually, you're not my friend. Technically, you're me, but we've been through this. But yes, that was a memory. My memory, actually. Or, I guess, _our_ memory. That was from when we were still one person. Although I really doubt you were ever a part of me. You're too whiney. And you use your face way too much."

Everything he said, he said in a monotone. Real-Fran found it exceptionally annoying.

"And you're creepy. I don't think you were ever a part of me, either. You're too weird. So what's your memory doing in my dream?" At the thought of the dream, Real-Fran couldn't help but shudder. It had been so realistic and terrifying.

Other-Fran finally looked at him, giving him a cool, level stare.

"Regardless of how we feel about each other, we are two halves of one person. And I refuse to remain here any longer. You will remember everything, and you will get us free. There's something I need to do, and the only thing in my way, ironically, is myself. In the form of you, of course, but you are still me. Or something."

Other-Fran was apparently done talking, for he leapt up from his seat and stretched, yawning.

"Well, night night. I'm off. Remember some more while I'm gone, alright? There's someone I need to see."

And then he vanished.

(line)

It had been four months since the incident.

It was everything Tsuna could do to keep his family together. The Varia was now a permanent resident in the mansion, and the two separate groups constantly clashed. It was enough work to keep them civil under normal circumstances, but now it was near impossible.

Today, though, everyone was quiet. This was the day that the injured patient finally came out of his room. This was the day when he rejoined his group, his family. He was physically healed. His mind, however…

His mind was lost.

Not in the literal sense. He was still completely coherent. He was still "normal" – if that's what you would call it. He had been getting much better as the weeks went on, talking more and laughing like he used to. But something was still missing. Any time he had looked over to the patient in the other bed, his words left him, and his posture slumped.

Actually, his mind was perfectly healthy. It was his heart that was lost.

The door creaked open, and the group waiting outside held their collective breath.

Out shuffled the now-healed patient, his head held high as he surveyed the crowd.

"What the actual fuck are you all doing here? Shi shi shi."

The crown still glinted on his head. His blonde hair still fell over his eyes. He still twirled his knives through his fingers, without care. He still laughed the same way. He still acted the same way. Only one thing had changed.

"So, when do we leave?"

Squalo looked at Lussuria worriedly before answering Bel.

"Leave? But Fran…"

Bel shrugged nonchalantly and brushed right by Squalo.

"Fuck him."

(line)

_The knife in his hand felt wrong, unstable, and dangerous. Fran shuffled through the darkened halls, completely uncomfortable and straining against the impulse._

"_Something isn't right."_

_His body paid no attention to his words, and kept on walking._

"_Don't do it! Do you hear me? Something isn't right!"_

_Still he walked down the hall, toward the door that was slightly open._

_Still he walked toward the light, the sound of arguing, and his target._

_Still he raised the knife behind Tsuna's back, ready to slip the blade straight through his neck._

_He didn't stop when he heard someone yell._

_Didn't stop the fall of his hand. _

_Didn't stop when someone jumped in front of the blade, his blonde hair glinting in the light._

_Didn't stop when he realized who he had killed._

_(Killed? Injured? It didn't matter.)_

_And when Bel fell to the ground in a growing pool of blood, he didn't cry._

_His heart, however, died._

This time Real-Fran woke in tears.

Other-Fran was sitting right next to him, rubbing his back as he sobbed. He didn't know what was happening to him.

That had been the seventeenth dream he'd had during his stay here in nowhere land. The sixteen dreams prior had been a complete jumble of memories, some happy, some sad. A kiss in the mall. A dark bar in a shithole town. Meeting Mammon for the first time. Being tortured by Raziel. A different dream every night, getting closer and closer to the end. And then there it was. The end.

"Make it stop."

Other-Fran looked at him in sympathy.

"I don't know how…"

Every day, Other-Fran had been getting less and less solid. At first it was just his outlines. His edges seemed faint, or shimmery. Then whole limbs became transparent. With every memory Real-Fran gained, Other-Fran disappeared more and more. Now, he was just a faint discoloration in the land. The next memory, he would be gone.

"What happens when you disappear?"

Other-Fran seemed to shrug. Real-Fran couldn't really tell.

"I guess that's for you to find out."

Real-Fran had noticed a difference in himself. He had been here for a few weeks now. With every memory he remembered, he became more and more like Other-Fran. The first thing to go had been his expressions. Is face was now as expressionless as a rock. His tone of voice as flattened out, his eyes had gained a gleam of sarcasm, and his body habits had altered slightly. In a way, he was absorbing Other-Fran into himself.

Next time, there would be no one to rub his back while he cried. Next time, he would be alone.

Real-Fran dreaded the day.

(line)

The Varia left the Vongola mansion the day Bel returned to health. They hadn't heard from them since, and it had already been a month. Fran was still comatose, and wasn't reacting to any medications.

Instead of putting up a fight, Tsuna had given control of CEDEF to Byakuran. He figured it was easier than more death, or near-death. The rest of his family disagreed, but Tsuna was firm. Nothing meant more to him than the safety of his family.

And so Byakuran took over. Lal Milch quit immediately. Byakuran hired Mammon in her place, and sent his most efficient team of killers after her. She hasn't been seen in a while. Colonello was devastated when she disappeared, and spends his days locked in his room. Sometimes, Mammon tries to call him, but he refuses to speak to him.

Byakuran rules with terror and false hope rather than kindness and peace. If the other administration tries to vote the man out of leadership, he retaliates by killing someone close to them. People soon learned that it was safer to just take it. There were some who refused to conform: Squalo and Gokudera were just a few examples. But they kept there rebellion a secret, as to not bring danger crashing down on their house.

No one but Byakuran is happy with the way things turned out. And he's perfectly fine with that fact.

(line)

_This wasn't a memory. Just emotion._

_Just because he doesn't show his feelings on his face, doesn't mean that he doesn't feel._

_Gratitude, for the Varia for taking him in. _

_Anger, at Byakuran for putting him in this position. _

_Joy, that he was able to fit in so quickly in such a dysfunctional family. That he finally had a family again._

_Surprise, when Bel kissed him for the first time._

_Regret, that the kiss hadn't grown into something more than that. _

_Indignation, that Mammon had so easily tricked him._

_Hilarity, as he remembered all the jokes he'd made about his friends, his family, and his enemies. _

_And last of all, mind-numbing terror._

_Because he knew that when he awoke, nothing would be the same._

When Fran opened his eyes, he was drifting.

Gone was the meadow with the gently waving grass. Gone was the rock where his other-self has sat. Gone was the sky, the flowers, and the endless horizon.

Gone was his other-self, too.

He was alone, drifting in an endless grey mist with no sense of place or time. There was no solid ground, no difference between the earth and the sky. No sense of position. He was floating.

_I've been here before._

As soon as he thought it, he remembered. This was where Byakuran had changed his memories. He had been here, in the mist place, when he had whispered his dripping acid and changed everything.

This was the birthplace of disaster.

Fran struggled against the mist surrounding him, trying to find a foothold, a handhold, anything to align himself with. He wanted to stand, to walk, to run out of here and back into reality. He flailed around, searching for something, anything, but there was nothing.

He was stuck here, with no way out.

Fran stilled. His muscles stopped twitching, his breathing stopped, and his heart rate slowed. Wouldn't it be better to not wake up? He had probably killed Bel. He doubted that the Varia would welcome him back with open arms. Byakuran had probably taken over everything, and killed a lot of his friends already. What was there to go back to?

A memory of a whisper wound its way into his mind.

"_Shi shi shi…the drink was not what the prince ordered. Fetch another, peasant; and get it right this time. Or I'll make you bleed."_

Why? Why was he thinking of him? The chances that Bel had survived were slim. The chances that he would still want to see Fran, after everything that had happened? Nonexistent. So why, why was he thinking of the first words Bel had ever spoken to him? Why now?

But now that he had started, he couldn't _stop_ thinking about him.

His mop of blonde hair, and how he never had gotten to see his eyes. His crooked, shit-eating grin, and how it always meant trouble. His damn knives, and the pain he had caused with them. The sight of his own blood on the blonde's clothes, the night they had met. The unexpected and awkward kindness. The tutoring, the teaching, the fun. The hurt he saw leaking from Bel's every pore when he looked at Mammon. Their kiss.

And then he actually saw him

He was right in front of him, a few yards away, shimmering in the mist. His back was turned, but his crown glistened in his hair. His hands were stuffed into his back pockets, and he was looking at the sky.

"_Oi, Froggy…you coming?"_

Fran opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't say a word. In the background of his consciousness, he heard a beeping sound. But all he focused on was Bel.

The head of blonde hair shifted a bit as he looked over his shoulder. Fran could almost see his eyes between the strands of gold, but not quite. The blonde had an inquisitive look on his face, his lips parted in confusion.

"_Fran?"_

There it was. His real name. He had only heard that name in that voice a few times before.

But oh, what he wouldn't give to hear it again someday.

The beeping became louder, more insistent, but just as steady. Fran opened his mouth again, straining his vocal chords to make a sound.

But nothing came out.

Bel waited, looking more and more dejected with every passing second.

Eventually, he shrugged. Turned away. Walked slowly out of sight. Proud. Untouchable.

Alone.

The beeping was unbearably loud now.

And Fran, ever stoic, ever calm, broke.

For the first time in almost seven months, the coma patient woke up.

Screaming.

(line)

His phone rang.

He was right in the middle of a shoot, too. The cameraman looked vaguely annoyed, but the model shrugged it off and continued with what he was doing. No one of importance ever called him, anyway.

A half an hour later, he was done. But when he checked his phone, it was a number he didn't recognize. So he forgot about it.

He was walking home that evening when his phone rang again. The sun had just set, and the street lamps were turning on one by one. The oddly bright little ringtone seemed out of place in the darker atmosphere. He wiggled his phone out of his back pocket and checked the ID. It was the same unknown number. He ignored it again. The caller left no voicemail.

It became routine for the next week or so. The mystery person would call at random intervals throughout the day. He wouldn't pick up. The caller would leave no message.

It was always a call. Never a text. And never a voicemail.

It was partly his fault, he supposed. He had deleted all his contacts after…after what had happened a year ago. So he probably _knew_ who was calling him. Probably.

But it was weird that whoever it was wasn't leaving a message.

After another three days of the strange calls, he was intrigued enough to make a deal with himself. The next time it rang, he would pick up. Just for the fun of it. Just to see. Just…cuz.

It happened when he was sitting alone in a little diner, a half-finished meal in front of him. It was past one in the morning, and he had just gotten done with a gig.

His phone rang.

After the first few calls, he had assigned a separate ring tone to the mystery caller, so he would know when he called. Now, with that same tune jingling from his phone, he readied himself for the revelation. Today was the day. No more games. End of the road.

He pressed "Accept".

"Hullo?"

Silence on the other end of the line. It was clear that whoever was calling him hadn't expected him to pick up.

"Hullo? You there?"

There was a muffled rustling sound on the other end, but no words.

"Look, you've been calling me for almost two weeks. So I finally answer and you have nothing to say?"

He waited.

Finally…

Finally…

He spoke.

_ "I…I'm going to fix this. I promise."_

There was something that sounded oddly like a choked sob, and then a click.

The mystery caller had hung up.

He pulled the phone away from his ear in confusion, staring at the screen. He had hung up. That was it? That was all?

Fix? Fix what?

Something nagged at the back of his mind. Something about that voice tickled his memory. He knew that voice. Somehow…

After another minute of thought, he shrugged and went back to his food.

_Shi shi shi…whatever._

_(line)_

Miles away, someone stared at their phone in shock.

_He picked up._

He was in a church. No one knew where he was, and, quite honestly, neither did he. He was wandering, just drifting, looking for a lead. A clue. A hint. Something that would send him in the right direction.

He had found it that morning. A newspaper heading that screamed "CEDEF Employee Commits Suicide." A picture of someone he knew, someone he hated. Someone he looked like.

A lead. Something he could run with.

He could be a relative. A brother. A cousin. He could find out where the dead man had lived.

What he had done for CEDEF.

Where he spent most of his time.

Who he spent most of his time with.

He could make a new identity for himself.

Altering his appearance would be necessary after he'd found his information, but not difficult.

He had a plan. He had a way of getting to his goal.

The man stood from where he had been sitting in the pew and straightened his suit-coat, fixed his tie. He slipped out of the church without a sound, pocketing the phone as he did so.

_He picked up_.

Mammon's death was a tragedy. It was doubtful he had actually committed suicide, but who knows? People do stupid things when they fell like they have nowhere to turn.

He would have to make friends. Get allies. Find a resistance. Gain followers.

_I'll be damned before I let that bastard run my company any longer._

Oh, he would fix this alright. He would fix everything. His business, his friendships, and his relationship.

He paused for a moment, right in the middle of the sidewalk. It was just beginning to snow.

_He picked up._

His phone rang, surprising him. He fumbled with the device for a second, before recognizing the ID and raising it to his ear.

"Yes?"

"_Did you see that papers?"_

"Yep. Pity, isn't it?"

A chuckle.

_"Oh, sure. A pity. Where are you?"_

"Around. Don't worry about me."

_"Oya oya…do you know how late it is?"_

"It's currently 1:23 a.m. where I am. Do _you_ know how late it is?"

_"…Just keep us posted. Don't think you need to do this by yourself."_

"I will, don't worry. Gotta go. Bye."

"_Wait!"_

He waited, his finger hovering over the "end" button.

"Yes?"

_"…Good luck, Little One."_

He ended the call without replying.


	14. SEQUEL POSTED

Hey all!

This is just a quickie update: I have (finally) posted the first chapter of the sequel! The story can be found on my profile.

Thank you so much for following this fanfic. It's been a wonderful, bumpy ride. I can't wait to start this new adventure with you all!

See you soon, and enjoy Of Whispers and Plots.

Much love,

~ColorsInShadow


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